Reforged
by Avenel
Summary: Follows on from 'A splintered heart'.  A Rain and Kivan romance, inspired by Domi's exceptional mod.
1. Chapter 1

This is a short series following on from '_A splintered heart'_, again inspired by Domi's Kivan mod – she is exceptionally talented, and I hope my small offering does her justice. Once again, the usual disclaimers apply, and I own none of the characters save Rain.

REFORGED

CHAPTER 1 - REFORGED

It was hot in the forge, stifling. An inferno of flame and air and unbearable heat, stinging the eyes and throat, sapping away all strength. The clatter of hammer on metal vibrated through the smoky space, shrieking in Rain's sensitive elven ears. She winced and tried to ignore the dull thudding echoing in her temples and head.

Cromwell was relentless. The blacksmith's arm fell again and again on the anvil, the entirety of his stocky strength behind each blow. His concentration was precise and exacting. Each strike worked the patterned steel gleaming silver in the firelight, and already Rain could see the beautiful weapon the reforged blade would become.

A longsword to bring balance back to Faerun, Cromwell had called it. The Equalizer. Rain only wondered whether it would bring balance back to her.

_Slayer_.

The thought hissed in her mind, slipping like the forge's black smoke through her awareness, insidious tendrils that were not quite there when she shifted her focus to examine it, melting like vapour into the background of her soulless being. It had been this way since her first changing. She might have more control over it now, and would fight against it with every breath, but it was at times like this when the Slayer drifted closer, when Rain was pushing the limits of her endurance and strength. Then the dizziness loomed, seizing her mind with dark shadows.

_Too hot_. It was too hot in here, even stripped down to her thin cotton vest that was no longer white but streaked with soot and grime, and the film of sweat that clung to her skin. Rain paused in her working of the bellows to wipe her arm across her face. Cromwell flicked her an impatient glance, and Rain gritted her teeth and set to fanning the furnace again.

More dizziness.

This time, it was a sudden rush that made her head swim, forcing her back a step from the flames to steady herself. That feeling of separation was starting again, the sensation that she was floating free of her exhausted, physical body. The Slayer stirred, scenting weakness.

The bellows dropped to the floor.

Turning away, Rain blindly groped for the nearest bench and leaned over it, her head hanging low and eyes tightly closed. Anomen was there in an instant. His hand was on the small of her back, steadying her, but Rain barely registered it; all that mattered was the feeling that he would not let her fall.

"Rain," he said urgently, well past the formalities of the _'my ladies'_ in this very acrid, primal place where she was in nothing but her light underclothes and stained breeches rolled up past the tops of her boots. Fortunately for her, they were _all_ in the same dishevelled state of undress, and had been for hours. It was just too damned hot. "Here, rest a moment. Catch your breath. Do you need some water?"

She managed a nod. He reached for the flask at his belt, but Rain stubbornly righted her body again and uncorked her own metal flask. She lifted it to her parched lips and tipped her head back. Only a trickle wet her tongue, and then it was gone.

Letting out a slow breath, she stoppered it again. "Empty," she muttered, her voice hoarse. She pushed away from the table unsteadily and glanced at the pail of clean but bitter water by the far wall.

"No, take this." Anomen pressed his flask into her hand, insistent. His brown eyes were grave where he studied her, and his mouth was unsmiling; this time, his gallantry was born of deep concern, and not due to any desire on his part to take advantage of the situation. Looking up into his earnest face, Rain understood and silently thanked him for it. She accepted the flask with a tiny nod. Then she turned aside so his hand fell from her, and drank deeply, grateful for small mercies.

She lowered the flask again. Across the forge, Kivan's gaze cut into hers, a gleaming of hard black stone in the leaping light of the fire he stoked. His face was as weary and soot-streaked as Anomen's, all three of them filthy with charcoal and smoke. His lean, muscled arms were bronzed in the orange and red light, his sable hair a damp tangle at his shoulders. His expression was utterly still.

Suddenly uncomfortable, Rain looked away and handed the flask back to Anomen, feeling as though she had done something wrong. Which was ridiculous, because they had said all they were ever going to say that evening in her forest bower, two nights ago now, when this strange something-but-nothing between them had finally ended in this terrible, strained silence. Since then, Kivan had been polite but distant, always on the fringe of her vision but rarely venturing closer, the two of them putting up an unconvincing pretence of normalcy that everyone else saw through.

Grimly, Rain tightly guarded her heart. She had no choice. Bleakly, she drew what tiny portion of her essence remained and walled herself off, trying to think only of the desperate fight still to come, what was needed to restore first Imoen's soul, and then her own.

_Irenicus_.

"My thanks," she said to the worried knight. She shifted her glance to Cromwell, apologetic. "I just need some air. I'll be back soon." She started for the door, weaving between the tables overburdened with weapons of war, bent on escaping this cloying prison of heat and smoke. She recognised Anomen's heavy tread behind her, uncertain, and then the small shake of Kivan's head in the periphery of her vision.

"Let her go."

Outside, the air was almost sweet to Rain's starved senses, and blessedly cool on her flushed skin. She dragged in a deep breath and filled her lungs with brine. Belatedly, she remembered the rotting weed and fish stewing beneath the wharves in Athkatla's sullen heat, and nearly gagged. Her elven connection to the world may be gone, but her overly fine senses remained.

Pulled towards the restless sea washing around the great ships, she wandered down Cromwell's stairs to the docks, heading for the seawall. It was very late in the afternoon. The sky churned with low, dark clouds. Over the ocean, a heavy blue mist was falling, veiling the harbour.

_Rain_. Her namesake. She lifted her head, feeling her weariness slipping a little, just enough for the dizziness and shadows to begin to retreat from her mind. Her head felt clearer. Slowly, she tilted her neck from side to side, trying to ease out some of the stiffness from her sore muscles. Her russet hair tickled her neck where it was caught up in an untidy knot.

Light steps sounded on the stone flags of the docks. Rain shifted slightly, her body instantly tensing, but it was not a thief or a ruffian mistaking her for an easy victim; not this time. Her heartbeat quickened. Somehow, she always knew when it was him. Even now, stripped of her elven soul.

He said nothing at first, simply coming to stand beside her at the seawall. He carefully rested his folded cloak on the stone top. Her gaze dipped to it, noting in passing that the tattered green wool required mending yet again. A faint smile tugged at her lips. There were some things that Kivan was obstinate about; keeping this threadbare cloak was one of them.

So was keeping Tazok's heart.

Her smile faded.

Kivan turned to face her and leaned against the wall, one hand on his bundled cloak. She could feel the intensity of his gaze as he scrutinised her. "Are you alright?" he finally asked, very quietly.

Rain gathered herself and raised her eyes to his. He seemed worried now, his earlier disapproval banished. "Not really," she admitted. "It was just too hot in there, and I am tired." She sighed, feeling the weariness settling in her bones again. "Very tired. I am getting weaker far more quickly now. Things that I took for granted before are now much harder for me to do." She remembered her acknowledgement that she was dying, spoken to him those two nights ago, and knew it again to be the bitter truth.

"My dizziness is worse," she told him. "Sometimes... Sometimes it nearly takes me back there, to when I..." She swallowed grimly and made herself say the words. "To when I became the Slayer," she finished, her voice nearly inaudible.

He shifted, his expression softening. Rain thought she felt something warming in him, a hint of the affectionate care and concern that had seemed missing these past days, hidden from her. For a moment, things almost seemed right between them again.

"You will not become the Slayer again," he said firmly, as though trying to bolster her fading will with his own. "You won't let yourself. And," he said more softly, "I won't let you either."

She glanced at him wryly, one brow lifted. "If I do change again, I don't see how you'll be able to stop me," she pointed out. "What will you do, sing to me, or try to charm me like one of your forest creatures?"

Kivan's lips twitched. "Have you ever heard me sing, mellonamin?"

Rain hid her own smile. "Once. I heard you singing under your breath while you were on watch one night, when we were in the druid's grove."

Now his smile did break out, his black eyes gleaming with silent laughter. "And?"

"_And_," she said playfully, continuing their banter, "your voice was fair enough, my dear friend, for a ranger. But I don't think that will elevate you to the lofty rank of a bard."

He shook his head as though offended, but his grin widened. "Then there you have it," he informed her lightly. "No singing. But there is still the option of charming you, I might try that."

Too late, he realised how close they were coming to what lay between them, and his expression changed. Rain hastily glanced back over the harbour, turning her face away. Her heart thudded in her chest. A sick feeling was creeping over her, the miserable twist of heartsickness. For a moment she was silent, trying to restore her composure.

"Seriously though," she said, returning to the topic of the Slayer. "It was terrifying enough last time, slowly coming back to myself and seeing the damage I had caused." Her eyes dropped to his cloak; several of the mended slashes had been her doing, rent by her claws.

_The Slayer's claws_, she amended.

"If I do change," she whispered, "I want you to run, mellonamin. Do not hesitate. I don't want to see you hurt."

Kivan was quiet a moment, pensive. He gazed out at the ocean as she was doing, but then rested his eyes on her again. "Nor do I want to see you hurt," he said quietly. "Never again."

Well, they had that in common. Rain straightened her back and raised her head, closing her eyes in relief as the first cold raindrops hit her head, striking her bare shoulders and sliding down her skin. She listened to the increasing patter of the rain on the stone flags and drew comfort from it, the music of the water a balm to her bruised heart. Idly, she tilted her face from side to side, letting the rain run down her cheeks and nose. She wondered if it would smear the soot.

"Rain." Kivan's voice was very soft. There was a new note in it, something she almost recognised, tantalising the edge of her senses. Something warm and low and strangled. Her eyes flew open; she wasn't sure if he was addressing her or merely noting the weather. When she looked at him, the twinge in her heart sharpened, for he seemed almost bemused, regarding her with what might have been awe or admiration, or even mellow desire. Kivan blinked, returning to himself hastily. He gazed at her through the curtain of rain. "Do you know," he said quietly, "I think of you whenever it rains, now. Every time."

"Oh." Despite the wet chill seeping through her, Rain felt a blush rise to her cheeks. She dropped her eyes from his and suddenly blanched, realising with horror that while her vest was no longer white, the thin fabric was clinging wetly to her skin, leaving little to the imagination. "Oh!" She folded her arms across her breasts, her flush rising more hotly than before. Kivan was already shaking out his cloak, settling it around her shoulders warmly.

To her indignation, she realised he was shuddering with muffled laughter. Rain swatted at him, giving him an irate glare. "How long were you going to let me stand there like that?" she demanded, still blushing furiously. "So much for you being the pinnacle of nobleness and gallantry, ranger."

He was still trying to control his laughter. "Peace, Rain," he choked out, his dark eyes bright with humour. "I only realised when you did. And I never claimed to be noble or gallant; that's Anomen's domain."

Rain huddled under his cloak, seeing the humorous side of it now that she was decently covered. "Well," she said, losing the battle to hide her own smile, "thank you for restoring my modesty, ranger."

That grin pulled at his lips. "What little modesty you had," he rejoined, "looking like a ragged street urchin with your breeches rolled up past your knees, and charcoal streaked across your face." He easily evaded the next swat of her hand, laughing under his breath as he neatly sidestepped her and ended up behind her, pinning her arms to her sides beneath his tattered cloak. He sobered then, directing her glance to a group of rowdy sailors stumbling out of the nearby tavern. "But beneath that war paint," he said softly, "there is still a beautiful face, and I do not want to see you come to any harm, Rain."

She nodded, barely breathing. Kivan's hands were still on her, but they were gentle now, holding her almost the way he had in her darkened bower. It brought that sharp ache back to her heart.

Before she could think of what to say next, the door to Cromwell's forge opened and Anomen emerged, seeking them through the falling rain. He approached swiftly, determination in every step. As he drew closer, he eyed Kivan's hands. Something dark settled in his face.

"It's nearly ready," he said shortly, staring fixedly at Rain's wet face. Kivan's fingers tightened, ever so slightly. She couldn't see his expression, but something seemed to pass between the two men. Anomen's mouth thinned. "Are you coming, my lady?"

"Of course."

They returned to the searing heat of the forge, Rain's hair and clothes drying out damply. But when Cromwell laid the finished sword across her reverent palms, her discomfort was forgotten.

_The Equalizer_. Balance.

Rain slowly drew the beautiful blade from its scabbard and gave it an experimental swing, feeling the grace and power in its silvered arc. She met each of their eyes in turn. "Come," she said gravely. "It is time to see to Bodhi. And then Irenicus."


	2. Chapter 2

REFORGED

CHAPTER 2 - SHADOWS 

The shadows were long in the elven forest.

Wearily, Rain surveyed the fallen tree that blocked their path, a forest giant that had been struck by lightning some time ago, the once-mighty trunk scorched and split asunder. Its descent to the forest floor had left a gaping rent in the canopy. Bars of red sunlight slanted down, bright amidst the gloom.

Jaheira came forward and leaned on her staff, reaching out one hand to reverently touch the trunk. "And as one falls, so does other life begin, reaching up for the sun." She gestured at the carpet of wildflowers springing up around the trunk, the rust-coloured lichen growing on the bark. "The cycle of life continues." She tilted her head to regard their party. "Try not to disturb the new growth as you climb over."

Anomen scrambled up first and braced his feet, stretching his hand out to Aerie. Kivan helped her up from below. Together, they assisted over the nervous avariel and then Imoen, who clambered to her feet atop the trunk and took a few experimental steps with relish, holding out her arms for balance.

"Hey, I haven't done this in a while. Watch this!" Laughing, she sped up, nimbly running the length of the trunk in the direction of the withered roots.

"_Imoen_!" Jaheira glared daggers at her. "Get down girl, before I give you a true reason to run!"

"Alright, alright. No need for anything like that." Imoen gave her a cocky smile, not at all repentant. Her eyes were bright with mischief. "Just having some fun, that's all. You do know what _fun_ is, don't you Jaheira?"

"Your _fun_ is trampling those plants! Get down, right now!" Furiously, the druid snatched at Anomen's hand and hoisted herself up, intent on chastising her wayward charge.

"Aww." Imoen shot Rain a decidedly cheeky glance but jumped down on the other side with alacrity, making Rain smile tiredly. It brought her joy to see her sister's spirits restored. It also gave her a spark of hope, for with Imoen's restoration, she could try to wrest back her own.

Kivan handed up Jaheira's staff and turned to Rain, preparing to lift her. "Your turn," he murmured, his dark eyes softening. Carefully, he settled his hands on her waist.

Rain swallowed tightly. Beneath her breast, her heart was racing, warmth spreading through her being. She tried to think past what his touch was doing to her insides. Mustering her remaining strength, she took Anomen's hand and tried to scramble up, using the toes of her boots to find footholds in the rough bark. Near the top, she let go of his hand and concentrated on levering herself the rest of the way. Her body felt clumsy and over-used. Disconnected. It was an enormous effort now, her arms shaking.

Dimly, she realised the ties binding her mind to her flesh were failing, the threads of her control thinning and fraying. Even her own scabbards seemed to be fighting her, dragging heavily from her hips.

Her foot slipped on the lichen.

With a muffled cry she fell, landing in a painful heap in the dirt. The breath slammed from her lungs. Dazed, she lay unmoving, her vision going black. The taint slid like poison into her mind, cloaking her in shadows.

The Slayer lunged.

Raging at her, it tried to twist free of its restraints, sending a shockwave of fear and agony through her body. Rain gasped and clenched her teeth hard. She battled within her own mind, her body trembling from her efforts.

"Rain!" Hands were pulling at her shoulders, lifting her up. She was bundled securely into another's arms, her head pressed tightly against a solid shoulder. Calloused fingers stroked her hair jerkily. "Rain, fight it." Kivan's voice was harsh in her ear, insistent. "Fight it!"

Dragging in a deep breath, she did. She clenched her fingers in his cloak and _pushed_. The Slayer hissed and spat, trying to seize her body for its own. The blood roared in her ears.

_Begone, beast. You will not have me_.

It snarled at her. _Soon_, it promised with quiet malice. _Soon, I will_.

"No," she said very grimly. "You will not."

Focusing all her will, Rain shoved the taint back into the dark corners of her soulless body and summoned her mental barriers, containing it. The Slayer gave her a parting lash, lancing white-hot pain through her head. But the nightmare subsided.

Slowly, she drifted back to awareness. Kivan was still stroking her hair, murmuring something soothing under his breath. His cloaked shoulder was warm and strong beneath her cheek. Sighing, she turned her face into his neck and took the respite he offered, wrung out and exhausted. She tasted blood in her mouth.

His touch changed; his fingers slid through her hair, once, twice, and then fell away. "Has it passed?" he asked softly.

With an effort, Rain lifted her head. 'Yes," she managed weakly. She made herself move, shifting from his lap to lean against the fallen tree. Anomen crouched down on her other side. Worried, he put his hand to her brow. The sunlight glanced off the scarlet dragon scales cladding him, making her wince.

"She feels fevered," he muttered. "Her condition is getting worse." He glanced at the ranger, troubled. "We'll need to stop soon. She needs rest."

"Agreed." Kivan rose to his heels and regarded her gravely. "You have fought hard, mellonamin," he told her, "and with rare courage. But now it is time to accept our help." He took her hands in his and gently tugged her to her feet, steadying her. "If I have to carry you, I will," he said grimly. "I've done it before, and I will do it again."

He meant it, too. Every word.

She glanced at him, seeing the terrible strain in his dear, familiar features, the fear and worry in his eyes. He was hurting for her, helplessly afraid, but was unable to shoulder all her burdens.

That didn't stop him trying.

Rain lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, determined to survive. She gathered the last of her strength. "I'm alright," she assured him, keeping her voice very level. "I can manage a little longer." Anomen climbed onto the tree again, and she set her hands against the bark, cringing. She turned them over to see the grazed, bloodied palms. She eyed Kivan again. "I thought I told you to run, mellonamin."

He didn't smile. "And I said I wouldn't let you change again." Determined, he put his hands around her waist very firmly and lifted her up to Anomen. "I always keep my promises, Rain. Every one. You should know that by now."

xxxx xxxx

As it turned out, their work was not yet done for the day. They stumbled across the last person Rain would ever have expected to see lurking in the forest near hidden Suldanessellar, a familiar figure in stained travel leathers and a shock of brown hair falling over his brow, above merry eyes.

Except that right now, he was not laughing.

"Coran?" She stumbled to a stop, staring at him in disbelief. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Rain!" He recovered from his own surprise and started forward quickly. "You have no idea how glad I am to see you," he said, his voice muffled as he slipped his arms around her waist and embraced her tightly, lifting her off her feet. Rain sensed movement behind her, and Kivan padded into the periphery of her vision.

"Coran," he greeted the thief neutrally, folding his arms across his chest. "Do you mind?" He indicated Rain with a pointed expression.

"Ah, yes," he said, setting Rain back on her feet. "Our stalwart ranger. I didn't realise you had come back." Coran's gaze flitted across their group, noting Imoen, standing with her hands planted on her hips. "Immy." He moved on, hitching on Aerie before settling on Jaheira. "Lady druid," he greeted. "Where is Khalid?"

Rain shook her head in warning. "Don't," she said in a low voice. "I'll explain later."

Coran's brows flew up, but then his expression changed, his mouth tight with urgency. "I need your help," he told her. "Come quickly." He was already tugging at her arm, pulling her along with him down the forest trail. "I'll explain as we go."

It transpired that after he and Rain had parted in Baldur's Gate, Coran had taken up with Safana. She wasn't surprised; not really. Though she valued his friendship immensely, she had always known that Coran's attentions were fickle. What passed for his love could easily fall on any pretty girl who happened to catch his eye, and Rain had never deluded herself. Yes, he had true affection for her; she knew that. But she never intended to be another notch on his belt.

"Safana?" she queried coolly, raising a brow at him. "So it didn't take you long to get over me after all," she observed, wryly now. "So much for me being the love of your life." There was no real sting in her words, for she had never believed his declarations of love anyway. She shook her head in mock dismay. On her other side, Kivan's mouth twitched, and he turned away to hide a tiny flicker of a smile.

Coran had the decency to look ashamed. "Yes, well," the thief muttered. "You were always so cold to me, and a man needs to keep a fire burning in him, not freeze under a woman's icy glare. You are a tender flower, my dear, but you also have a heart of stone."

"Is that so." Irritated, Rain struck out faster, wondering what he would think if he ever learned the truth of her heart. Grimly, she settled her hands on her blade hilts. In this weak, barely-living state she was in, she needed to be ready at an instant's notice to fight for her life.

"Ah, Rain. Little one." Coran caught up with her, apologetic. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that, truly." He scanned the forest quickly, drawing her to a stop. "We're close now. Step carefully. It's wolfweres we are dealing with."

"Wolfweres?" Kivan sent him a disgusted look. "And you find the time _now_ to tell us?" He shook his head at their friend's folly and unshouldered his longbow, swiftly nocking an arrow to the string. "Stay here," he ordered.

He slipped away amongst the dense trees to scout ahead, melting into the lengthening shadows. Not a sound reached Rain's ears. Soon enough he returned, his expression sober beneath his green hood. He slackened the draw on his bow. "The pack is close, just ahead. Be on guard."

Readying herself for another battle, Rain slid her twin blades free with a metallic rasp, fighting back waves of tiredness. But Kivan stayed her. Quickly, he shifted both bow and arrow into one hand, and lightly touched her arm with the other. He drew her away a few steps.

"No," he said very softly, looking down into her face. "Not this time. Stay back with me. I don't want you risking your safety for him, not when you are like this. There is no shame in letting the others handle the front line, Rain. Not today."

Gazing up at him, Rain saw her exhaustion reflected in his stark worry. She nodded and sheathed her blades. "Very well," she conceded.

The confrontation was over quickly. They put an end to Lanfear and her pack, Anomen savagely swinging his hammer, Jaheira whirling her staff with vengeful grace. Rain did her part. She and her sister mages sent bolt after fiery bolt into the fray, the hiss and crackle of magical energy filling the air. Kivan's arrows flew with a marksman's lethal precision. As the battle drew to a close, Rain snatched a glimpse of him, recognising the fluid ease with which he pulled back his great bow, each arrow winging towards head and throat and heart.

But for all the swiftness of their response, Coran was left anguished. He knelt in the leaf litter by the broken body of the lover who had betrayed him, staring miserably down at Safana. Rain met Kivan's eyes bleakly. She sorrowed for the elven thief, genuinely touched by his grief.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, gently laying her hand on his shoulder. A long shudder went through Coran's body. "We will help you bury her, but then you must come away with us. It won't do you any good to stay here on your own."

xxxx xxxx

They set up camp in a small glade near a brook, meandering its way through the forest floor. They settled into their nightly tasks. Anomen collected deadfall and built the fire, but he shook his head when Rain tried to assist him, urging her back down onto her bedroll. "Sit, my lady. Take the rest while you can."

Though she felt useless, Rain knew his advice was sensible. She busied herself instead with boiling a cauldron of water over the hungry flames. Slowly, their camp emptied. Kivan vanished into the night with his bow, intent on game. Jaheira wandered away in search of greens for the cooking pot. Companionably, Imoen and Aerie lifted their packs and followed the brook a distance, using the opportunity to wash. Coran watched them go, his eyes resting on Aerie.

Rain gave him a wry look. "That didn't take you long," she commented. She reached into her pack and pulled out the sealed packets of salt and pepper that she always took care to buy, one of the small indulgences she allowed herself.

He stirred and moved closer to her, settling down at her side. "Faerun will always contain beautiful women," he agreed, "and I am duty bound to admire them all." He smiled at her, a glint of his old mischief in his bright eyes. "That extends to you, of course, my beauty. I have ever admired your fair face."

"Mmm," she said, non-committal. She dampened the smile that threatened to curve her lips, privately amused by his antics. On the other side of the fire, Anomen glanced up at the thief sharply, unimpressed.

Coran watched the knight with interest. "So, my heart isn't the only one you have broken," he murmured. "Have you not yet found love for a man?"

Stung, a warm blush rose to Rain's cheeks. "That's none of your business," she retorted.

He was instantly contrite. "My apologies, sweet Rain." Deftly, he reached out and ran a lock of her bright hair between his fingertips. "Like silk," he murmured.

She eyed him coolly and tilted her head, retrieving her hair from his caress. "Don't think you'll be getting that kind of comforting from me tonight," she warned him. "Nothing has changed."

"Still playing hard to get, I see."

Rain ignored him. Jaheira returned to the circle of firelight and bent over the cauldron, adding mushrooms and foraged herbs. "A good harvest," the druid said, sounding satisfied. She nodded as Rain added salt and pepper to the pot, her honeyed braids swaying. "The forest provides for all who know where to look."

"Which apparently you do," Coran said tartly. He sighed as Jaheira lifted a brow but refused to be baited. Instead, she shouldered her pack and went in search of the other women. When she had gone, Coran glanced at Rain again. "I shouldn't have said that," he admitted. "Not when she has lost Khalid."

Rain wearily stirred the beginnings of their stew. "She grieves for him deeply," she murmured. "We all do. Be kind to her, Coran."

"Kind," he echoed acerbically. "There's a thought. Be _kind_ to Jaheira."

She said nothing, and he was silent a moment, watching her. Then he frowned.

"There's something different about you," he realised, his alarm growing. "I can see you and touch you, but I can't _feel_ you." For emphasis, he swiftly took her chin in his fingers and turned her forcefully, studying her intently.

"That's because her soul has been stolen by a mad mage," Kivan said flatly. He strode into the glade and gave Coran a cold glance, a pair of skinned rabbits dangling from his hand. His longbow was slung across his back again. At the stony expression on his face, Coran let her go. "Have a care with her, Coran. She's been through more than enough already."

Warmed, Rain lifted her head and gave the ranger a tired smile. His jet eyes softened in response, just a little. "I see you have brought us the rest of our meal."

Kivan knelt beside her and laid the rabbits before her, arranging them like an offering. "Indeed. They will complement Jaheira's find nicely." He glanced at her, his brow creasing in a small frown. "Do you need help with this?" he asked with concern. "I can take over, if you want to lie down."

Rain felt that telltale flush staining her cheeks, thinking about that choice of words coming from _him_. She pulled a small knife and reached for the nearest rabbit. "No, it's alright. I'll be fine for a little longer." She began to slice the meat for the stew.

"Then I will be back soon," he murmured. He rose, his merciless gaze pinning Coran. "Walk with me," he said. It was not a request.


	3. Chapter 3

REFORGED

CHAPTER 3 – SOME TRUTHS 

Out in the darkness away from the fire, Kivan melded again into the part of him that was more hunter than man, the shift smooth and natural and effortless. His awareness stretched and expanded. Keenly, he took in every breath and sigh of the great forest, the smallest rustle of bracken and leaf as the rabbits nosed out of their warrens once more, sniffing the air for predators. Owls blinked down from the canopy with hooded golden eyes. The murmuring of the brook sang to him, and the ebb and flow of Imoen's and Aerie's conversation, punctuated by the odd indulgent remark from Jaheira.

Tactfully, he chose a deer trail that led away from the women, winding between the tall columns of trees. The amber firelight faded away and night closed in. He gathered his thoughts as they walked, not yet ready for the difficult discussion they needed to have.

Coran had never shared his inclination for silence. "So," he drawled, slipping into the elven tongue. "What brought you back, my friend? Was it the sudden absence of grand adventure or...something else?"

That _something else_ was spoken with a distinct edge. Kivan slanted his companion an unreadable look, recognising the unpleasant glitter behind Coran's eyes; it was the same resentful warning he had given every man who had shown any interest in Rain, jealous and possessive.

"Or perhaps," he continued in that light, mocking tone, warming to his theme, "you came back for _someone_ else. Did she finally thaw the ice that serves as blood in your veins, oh vengeful ranger?"

Angered, Kivan swung his head about and fixed the thief with a penetrating glare, their once-amicable camaraderie receding quickly. "Did you know she was missing?" he demanded, ruthlessly unapologetic. "While you were making merry in the taverns, did you know she had been abducted?"

Coran opened his mouth for a reply but then closed it again, taken aback. His scornful expression faltered. Dropping his eyes, he focused on the uneven path beneath their feet as the ground began to rise steadily, the trail switching back around a series of high rocky outcroppings that led to an overhanging bluff. They climbed in silence. Kivan combed the darkness with razored eyes, swift and alert.

When Coran finally spoke, his tone was abashed. "I first learned she hadn't reached Candlekeep about a week after she left," he admitted. "I ran into a passing trader at the Blushing Mermaid, who had just come from Candlekeep. I asked after her, but the merchant had never seen her." He was quiet for a moment, almost pained. "I was worried, of course. But by then I was with Safana, and..." He trailed off, wincing at how that sounded.

Kivan had no shred of sympathy for him. "Rain has undergone tortures that you could not even possibly imagine," he said harshly. "So don't you dare question my motives in coming back or staying by her side, Coran. She needs me, and I am here; that's all that matters."

They gained the top of the rise. The night sky opened up between the trees, the stars brilliant pinpoints of light spangled across the velvet heavens. Starlight filtered down in a soft, silvery veil. Idly, Kivan tilted his head back and thought that Deheriana would have loved this wild lovely place, and Rain would too. He resolved to bring her up here with him if she could manage the climb. Ordinarily she would have no trouble. She was quick and light on her feet, graceful as she danced with her blades.

But these were not ordinary times.

The reminder sent Kivan in search of the cliff edge. The land fell away steeply, giving him a superb view of the starlit forest and the glade in which they had made camp. The fire cast a bright ruddy glow amid the trees, sending shadows fleeing from its flames. But Rain was no longer there. Anomen tended the stew, letting it simmer over the heat.

Coran joined him and peered over the edge, apparently unfazed by the yawning drop. Which made sense, given his agile light-fingered profession. His avid gaze swept the camp and then darted away in disappointment, clearly searching for someone in particular.

_Rain_.

Kivan gritted his teeth against a sudden jab of irritation. Smoothing his expression, he headed for a rough granite tor that rose to one side, pulling his longbow over his head and carefully leaning the strung shaft against the rock. Then he set his back to the cold stone. He watched Coran impassively, folding his arms across his chest.

At length his old companion sighed and turned away, meeting Kivan's gaze with something resigned but bitter. "Tell me what happened to her."

He did.

He spared the thief none of Rain's suffering, speaking plainly and matter-of-factly of her prolonged torture at Irenicus' hands, describing the very precise scars that now cut across her skin, left by her tormentor's wicked blade. The nightmares that plagued her rest. How she always woke gasping in blind terror, bending her head over her knees until the shaking passed.

The loss of her soul.

He said nothing of the Slayer, not wanting to deepen her humiliation. But there was no avoiding the fact that death stalked her now. Rain's bright spirit was reduced to a mere guttering spark, the lustre emptying from her more quickly now as each hour sped by. As he recounted, Kivan was gripped again by a familiar cold fear, his fingers clenching into furious, helpless fists.

"There is something you need to know," he grated out. "She is _dying_." Coran flinched. Kivan felt a twist in his gut, his panic rising. "We have tried everything we can think of, all of us. Nothing heals her. If we don't reach Suldanessellar soon and finish Irenicus, she will slip away into darkness and there will be no bringing her back."

A tense silence followed his words. Down in the glade, the women emerged from the trees, freshly washed. Kivan angled his head and watched Rain lower her heavy pack to the ground. She sank to her bedroll and huddled close to the fire in her grey cloak, her shining red-brown hair loose and wet. Though the others eagerly ladled out their bowls of stew and settled themselves comfortably for the evening, Rain took little part in their conversation. Instead she stared listlessly into the flames with her arms clasped around her knees, looking so drained that she could barely lift her head.

The knot in Kivan's chest clenched tighter. He looked at Coran again very grimly, direct. "If you care for her as much as you say you do, then stay away from her," he said bluntly. "Do her this small kindness. Right now, she needs every bit of her strength. She doesn't need to fend you off as well. So for her sake, leave her be."

Coran glared back at him coldly. "I am not the slightest bit interested in your opinions about Rain's _needs_, friend. Nor do I care if you have appointed yourself her loyal guardian and defender of her virtue." He gave Kivan a small, tight smile. "Rain will do exactly as she pleases," he said spitefully, trying to goad him. "And if it pleases her to come to me, then I will soothe her as I see fit, and there's nothing you can do about it." His eyes darkened, turning cruel. "Let me tell you, friend, that I won't be thinking of any of your dire threats and warnings when she does come to my arms, for I'll be much too busy showing her what a man with my skills can do, and not –"

"_Enough_!" For a moment, Kivan struggled to contain his pure rage. The violence of it took him by surprise. Coran ground to a halt, as astonished as he was. Aware he had revealed too much, Kivan pushed away from the rock and shouldered his bow again, his movements uncharacteristically wooden. When he had mastered himself, he paused, giving his one-time friend a final cold glance. "You're right," he said levelly. "Rain will do as she wishes. But you're mistaken if you think she will ever go to you."

He turned away grimly into the night, intent on leaving before he said something he regretted.

But Coran wasn't finished with him. "I knew it," he hissed. "By the Seldarine, I was right all along, all this time. You _do_ want the girl for yourself."

Kivan went rigid. He stopped and angled his head to one side, glimpsing the snarl on Coran's furious face. Then he continued walking.

Coran let out a strangled bitter laugh. "Do you mean to claim her, then, ranger? Or don't you have enough fire in your blood?"

He let the taunt go past him, unprovoked. A new certainty settled inside him. Reaching the low granite boulders that signalled the head of the path, he shook his head and drew the shadows around him once more. "Whatever I may do or not do," he said, his voice drifting quietly back in the night, "is no concern of yours. That lies solely between myself and Rain."

xxxx xxxx

He returned to the glade with renewed purpose, stepping out from the encircling trees and into the firelight. Retrieving his pack, he went directly to Rain and spread his bedroll alongside hers, pulling out his blankets. She gave him a faintly surprised look but made no comment.

"You're not eating?" he asked, frowning down at the empty tin bowl that lay beside her.

Jaheira raised a brow at him from across the fire, letting him know that she thought he was dense. "Don't think we haven't already tried," she said dryly. "She can be as stubborn as a mule when she wants to be."

Rain stirred a little at her needling, but she seemed to be focusing from somewhere far away. "Soon," she said tiredly. "I know I should be hungry, but I'm not. I'll give it a little longer."

Kivan silently disagreed. Taking her bowl, he studiously ignored the wry shake of her head and ladled out a small portion of the hot stew, just enough to keep up her strength, but not so much that she would feel ashamed if she couldn't finish it. He brought it back to her with a bland expression and presented it with a small flourish. "My lady's banquet," he said with a straight face.

She smiled at him; she couldn't help herself. "If anyone is as stubborn as a mule," she murmured, "then it is you, ranger."

He laughed softly, delighted to see the return of her humour. "I am set in my ways," he agreed, crouching before her. "Now eat, mellonamin."

That beautiful smiled tugged at her lips. "You seem to have lost Coran," she remarked, watching his face.

"Ah, yes." He made a show of glancing around the camp site. "So I have."

Now she was looking at him as though he had lost his mind. She shifted beneath her heavy cloak, moving into a cross-legged position. "You're in an...interesting mood. What brought this on?"

"The stars, the evening sky." He shrugged and smiled at her. "Does it really matter, mellonamin?"

"I guess not." Rain gave him one of her small ironic smiles. Shaking her head at him, she reached for the bowl, the folds of her cloak parting.

Kivan glanced down at her hand, ready to pass over the stew. But he went stone cold. Slowly, his heart thumping in his chest, he set down the bowl and carefully took her fingers in his, turning her hand over to expose her wrist.

Black blood coursed beneath her skin. In the aftermath of losing her soul, Rain's flesh had taken on a pallid translucency, and he could clearly see the thin webbing of veins at her pulse. They were no longer a delicate blue. Now, they writhed with darkness. Unable to believe what he was seeing, he rolled back her sleeve and tracked the shadows up her arm to where they disappeared again. She stared down at her arm, ashen.

"Rain," he whispered, terrified for her. "Oh, mellonamin. What is this?"

Stunned, she raised horrified blue eyes to him, too wide in her thin face. "It can't be," she whispered. "It can't." Breathing hard, she yanked back her other sleeve and held out her palm, gazing blankly down at the black veining.

Kivan's chest constricted, tight and painful. "Jaheira." He barely choked out her name. Gripping Rain's hand tightly, he turned his head frantically, searching. "Jaheira!"

She came quickly, driven by the urgency in his voice. "By Salvanas," she whispered as she took Rain's other wrist. Kneeling, she lightly traced the shadows with her forefinger, then glanced at Kivan and shook her head. "I have never seen anything like it." Quickly, she looked up at Aerie, hovering by Rain's shoulder with Imoen. "Have you?"

"N...No." Aerie was as white as Imoen. "Never."

"What about you, priest?"

Anomen gave Rain a very grim look. "This is beyond my experience," he said. He laid his hand on her brow as he had earlier, feeling her temperature. "Still fevered." He exchanged a troubled glance with the druid. "This is worrying."

Jaheira gave him an impatient look. "Does it hurt?" she asked Rain. "Can you feel it in your blood?"

Rain didn't answer. She stared sightlessly ahead, frozen. She began to shiver.

Alarmed, Kivan gently tugged on her hand. "Rain," he called softly. "Talk to us."

With a visible effort, she pulled herself back from whatever dark place she had just found herself in, and gave a nearly imperceptible shake of her head. "No," she forced out. "It doesn't hurt." Numbly, she lifted her head and sought Imoen, who went to her knees beside her with a muffled cry. "Im," she whispered. "Did this ever happen to you?"

Imoen shook her head. Fiercely, she threw her arms around her sister and hugged her tightly. "You need to fight it, Rain," she urged, sounding brittle. "You need to keep trying."

Rain didn't reply. She looked down at her hands. "It is the taint," she said, shuddering. "It slides through my blood like poison."

No one disagreed with her.

Suddenly overwhelmed, she reeled, blindly reaching out her hands to brace herself. Only Imoen's arms kept her upright. Breathing shallowly, she met Kivan's eyes, panicked. In that moment, she reminded him of a wild, frightened animal, needing peace and stillness and quiet.

He acted immediately. "Steady there," he told her, rising. Then to Imoen, "Loosen your arms a little. Let her breathe." Imoen nodded and tucked a damp strand of hair behind Rain's pointed ear.

Swiftly, Kivan surveyed the glade and found a tree that would suit, just the right distance to give Rain some privacy. He stripped off his cloak and laid it on the grass, then went back for her. Imoen helped her up. Taking Rain's hand, he led her to the tree and settled her on his cloak. She sighed and leaned her head against the bark, closing her eyes. "Thank you," she murmured.

"Is that better?"

She gave him a tiny nod but didn't open her eyes.

Deeply worried, he gathered up his blankets and laid them over his arm, then picked up the forgotten bowl. Going to one knee, he carefully wrapped her in one of the thick blankets, layering it over her cloak. "When you are ready," he said softly, "try to eat."

She made no response.

A chill crept over his skin. Trying to think of what might be best to do, Kivan set aside his bow, pulled a blanket around his shoulders, and sat beside her, close enough that their arms touched. Rain turned her head towards him a little.

"Lean against me," he said. "Rest. I will watch over you."

For a while they were still, saying nothing. Rain's breathing slowly changed and steadied, bringing her out of her terrified trance.

Coran returned to the camp. He paused at the fringe of the firelight, took one look at them sitting together, and scowled angrily. Kivan tensed, wondering if he would challenge him.

Rain sensed his tension and opened her eyes. She focused on Coran wearily, straightening. "What was that all about?" she asked quietly.

Kivan glanced at her wan, strained face, and knew this was not a time for anything less than honesty. "You," he admitted. He lifted a hand and pressed her head to his shoulder, settling her there. "I told him about what happened to you. I also asked him to leave you alone." He had a sudden cold thought, uncertain. "Did... Did I do the wrong thing, mellonamin?"

"Wrong?" Rain lifted her head and gave him a tiny, amused smile. "No, you did nothing wrong."

"Then I am glad." Leaning back more comfortably against the tree, Kivan stretched out his legs and wondered how to distract her. He smiled, thinking of the evening sky glittering down on the leaves. "Do you know," he murmured, "I found a place here in the forest where you almost feel like you can touch the stars, you are up so high. I wanted to take you there, but I don't think I can carry you all the way up to the top of the bluff."

Rain's shoulders shook with silent laughter, startling him. "You want to carry me away to a starlit bluff, ranger? Do you know how that sounds?"

He did instantly, chagrined. But then a slow, insistent warmth pooled inside him, low in his belly. What was it that Coran had accused him of? Having ice in his veins instead of blood? Kivan stifled a snort. Hardly.

"Take it for what it is," he finally allowed. "Nothing more, nothing less."

Rain smiled at him softly. "I will."


	4. Chapter 4

REFORGED

CHAPTER 4 – TRANSFORMATION

That night, Rain suffered.

The taint had hold of her, and it refused to let go. It sank its fangs deep into her flesh and bled through her veins with each pulse of her heart; slow and steady, thick and black. The Slayer endlessly prowled around the gates of her mind. Burrowed beneath her blankets, Rain squeezed her eyes shut and shook through wave after wave of helpless trembling, enduring it.

The fever set in. Sometime after midnight, she grew so hot that her skin seemed to burn from the inside out, scorching her. She wrestled with her tangled blankets and threw them off. A breath of cool air moved over her skin, the damp rising from the forest floor, but it was not enough.

The inferno raged.

Panting, Rain rolled onto her side and shoved her hair back from her neck, clinging damply to her too-hot skin.

"Rain?" Kivan's murmur was low and anxious. She heard the rustling of his blankets and sensed him rise, leaning on his elbow. He laid the back of his hand on her nape. His breath hissed from him, quick and urgent. "Jaheira! She's burning up. We need –"

"_Aah_!" Rain gasped as pain knifed through her body. It seemed to come from everywhere at once, rippling through her insides and searing every nerve-ending with white fire. She writhed in agony. Clawing at her bedroll, she retreated from the torment, her awareness shrinking to something very small and dark as fiery sparks burst behind her eyelids, the taint pouring freely through her veins. Her heart thundered. Delirium beckoned and she accepted it; her mind whirled away into darkness.

She couldn't say how long it lasted.

It was the cool cloth on her brow that first tickled at her deadened senses. With tender care, it moved over her flushed skin, reassuring and refreshing. The sensation tugged her upwards. She heard the rise and fall of worried voices first, then the crackle of the fire, spitting embers into the night. Slowly, she moved her flayed, aching body, feeling the sudden absence of the pain and fever as a strange, empty nothingness. With an effort, she cracked open her eyes.

There was a sharp intake of breath. Blinking against the firelight, Rain stared with glazed eyes up into Kivan's anguished face, naked fear in his dark, sorrowing gaze. "Rain," he whispered, choked. He set aside the soaked cloth and brushed a lock of her limp hair away from her cheek. "Are you back with us?"

She tried to speak but couldn't. Her mouth was too dry, her tongue thick and clumsy. Understanding, Kivan gently lifted her head and propped it on his arm, holding the water flask to her parched lips. She drank in the brook's sweet water until she was sated, then sank back onto her bedroll with a sigh. Kivan recapped her flask and swallowed tightly, clearly struggling with himself.

"What...?" She tried to frame the rusty question. He glanced at her apprehensively, and she was suddenly gripped by a strangling, icy fear. "What is it?" she whispered.

He exchanged a bleak look with Jaheira, sitting quietly on Rain's other side. Imoen and Aerie were with her. Her sister looked down at her with so much painful compassion from within her red velvet hood that Rain felt a lump form in her throat, her fear rising.

"Please." She firmed her voice, gathering her courage. "Tell me."

Kivan let out an uneven breath. Gently, he stroked the side of her face with painstaking care, his hand trembling. "You have changed," he told her hoarsely. "During your fever. The taint now shows in your face."

She stared at him in sick horror. "What do you mean?"

Hesitating, he brushed his fingers very lightly over her eyes and lashes, making her close them briefly. "Your irises," he whispered. "They have changed colour. They are now the deepest black." He moved his hand to her ear and traced a soft whorl over the delicate skin abutting her lobe, on the plane of her cheek. "And the taint is visible here, like in the veins in your wrist. There are faint shadowy lines radiating outwards." He smoothed her hair again, trying to calm her. "If you keep your hair loose, we can hide it," he suggested. "Like this." He drew forward a dishevelled lock and pulled it across her ear.

Rain swallowed back a bitter surge of despair. Awkwardly, she tried to push herself upright, feeling Kivan's arms come around her as he braced her against his chest. She glanced around wildly.

They were all awake. Anomen fed the fire, giving her a sober glance through the smoking flames. Even Coran watched her, though he averted his eyes at her glance, turning his back on her as he rolled onto his side.

Pleading, Rain sought out Aerie again. "Do you have your mirror? Please, I need to see what has happened to me."

"Yes, but –" Aerie's sympathetic eyes darted to Kivan. He was conspicuously silent, meeting the avariel's gaze over the top of Rain's head where she couldn't see his expression. "But I don't think it is a good idea," she finished softly.

Jaheira nodded her agreement. "Do not fear, child," she said quietly. "All will be well again in time." She surveyed Rain's pale face with a small frown. "Do you think you can rest now? We all need sleep, if we are to be any good in the morning."

Cautiously, Rain assessed her condition. She was worn out to the point of utter exhaustion, which was nothing new, and the taint hummed with renewed power in her blood. But the Slayer was mercifully silent. "Yes," she said tiredly, shivering now that the fever had faded. "I think I can."

The others moved away, murmuring their weary good wishes. Kivan eased her down to her bedroll. He tucked the blankets securely around her and gazed at her a long moment, not afraid to meet her eyes.

Her _black _tainted eyes.

Ashamed, Rain slanted her face away. "I don't know how you can even bear to look at me," she said bitterly, despising herself. "What unnatural _thing_ am I turning into?"

"Hush." He gently turned her face back to him. "Look at me, Rain," he ordered. She did so, her heart clenching at the barest hint of a smile on his shadowed face, soft and warm. His eyes were black mirrors, reflecting her own. "I will look at you for as long and as much as I wish," he murmured, making her breath catch in her throat. "Now close your eyes." He leaned over to press his lips to her brow. "Dawn is not far off, and you should get as much rest as you can."

He drew back and slid under his own blankets, but settled himself more closely by her side. The sense of him was comforting and determined. Thus guarded, Rain let out a slow breath and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, too fatigued for reverie.

xxxx xxxx

She opened her eyes to a misty morning. It was later than she had expected, the weak sun barely penetrating the low fog that draped the forest. She sat up on her bedroll and winced, feeling the aftermath of the change that had ravaged her body. Kivan was no longer in sight. Rubbing at gritty eyes, Rain heaved herself to her feet and went to the brook.

The shock of the icy water left her gasping. Wading in to her knees, Rain ducked her head and used her soap briskly, scrubbing away the film of dried sweat the fever had left on her skin. She tried not to look at the shadows moving through her veins. Bitterly cold, she rinsed and dressed hastily, pulled on her boots and cloak, and combed out her damp hair with her fingers as she wandered back to the camp.

Their heated argument reached her ears long before the trees parted around the glade. Recognising the topic was _her_, Rain came to a faltering stop, the colour draining from her face.

Coran's voice, defensive. Kivan's toneless reply. Jaheira entered the fray, giving her muttered opinion in no uncertain terms, and then Imoen too, tight with anger. Rain blushed with shame and then went cold. For the first time, she felt like an interloper, an outsider who had worn out her welcome. She had never before been excluded from her group's warm and easy friendship. They didn't know what to make of her now, how to estimate her danger, and Rain couldn't blame them.

After all, the taint was now soaked through her being, her eyes black poisoned pools.

The Slayer stretched inside her and purred its agreement.

Recoiling from it, Rain made her legs move, stiffly returning to the glade. She squared her shoulders and strode grimly ahead.

It was Kivan who noticed her first. He was standing by the doused remnants of their campfire, his hood thrown back and his expression brooding. His eyes glittered with something indefinable where he observed Coran. Sensing her, he tilted his head and seemed to lose the thread of the thief's animated disagreement, instead seeking her.

Their eyes met through the interlacing branches.

He started, a quick, painful look crossing his face. Keeping her features carefully composed, Rain slid her gaze past him and halted at the edge of the glade, making herself still as stone.

Unerringly, her eyes pinned Coran. He flinched, his pack already hefted on his shoulders. "Is there something you want to say to me?"

The thief looked at her guiltily. With a heavy sigh, he started forward and fumbled for her hand, squeezing her cold fingers briefly. "Rain. Sweetling." He couldn't meet her altered eyes. "I'm sorry. I can't stay with you any longer. My path is not the same as yours anymore, and I..." He swallowed thickly. "You frighten me."

"Fair enough." Rain turned away from him. Feeling empty and cold, she made herself read the expressions on her friend's faces, seeing all manner of emotions reflected there: fear, worry, sympathy, compassion. Remorse. She lifted her chin and put the power of her blood into her voice. "You all have the same choice," she told them. "If you wish to leave, then I will not blame you. You have all done more than enough for me already. If there was ever any debt to repay, then it has been fulfilled over and over."

She struggled against a tide of misery, her composure finally crumbling. She suddenly wanted to cry.

"Go freely," she said, her voice shaking. "You need not be caught up in my dark destiny any longer."

A stunned silence met her words. So brittle did she feel, Rain's knees nearly gave way when Kivan shook his head as though dazed and folded her in a tight embrace, holding her so fiercely that she could barely breathe. He clutched the back of her head to his shoulder and pressed her close.

"Rain," he rasped, his mouth at her ear, "mellonamin. Forgive me. You were never supposed to hear this." He drew back and looked down into her face very gravely, loyal and earnest. "Do not doubt the rest of us," he urged her. "We do not all share Coran's views."

Leaning her head back to look up into his face, Rain felt a rush of relief, her love for him sharp and bright and almost overwhelming. She hid it with difficulty. "There is nothing to forgive," she whispered, meaning it.

There was a soft sound behind her. Imoen's fingers came to rest lightly on her shoulder and she turned at the prompting, Kivan's arms falling away. "Rain?" Her sister smiled at her so beautifully, so warmly, that Rain's unshed tears sprang to her eyes. They hugged one another affectionately. "I will never turn my back on you, little sister. _Never_."

And that was the view they all seemed to share. Only Coran left them, farewelling Rain with a final sad smile. "Onward to your destiny," he murmured, and then set out in the opposite direction towards Athkatla.

Rain spent the rest of the morning in a contemplative silence. She wondered what she had done to deserve such loyalty but couldn't fathom it. From time to time she felt Kivan's eyes upon her, and she wondered about him, too.

They took the winding forest routes that he found them. The sun slowly burned away the clinging mist and it grew warm beneath the trees, Rain's hair slowly drying. She thought about leaving it loose as Kivan had suggested. The marks on her face both frightened and appalled her, but somehow it didn't feel right to hide them.

On a whim, she stopped, set down her pack, and worked her fingers through her russet hair, lacing it into a braid. She caught Kivan's eye and gave him a grim smile.

"Let me go forth as I am," was all she said.

He merely nodded, warm approval in his jet eyes.

In the early afternoon, they passed the outer sentries to Elhan's war camp and were admitted without delay. The captain took one look at her and shunned her.

"You openly wear darkness now," he accused her, his cold disapproval taking her aback. "It haunts your every step. Be wary, Rain, lest you fall as low as those you hunt."

She gave him a cool glance, honing her anger. "Captain," she greeted him. "As welcoming as always, I see." She ignored his sharp look and turned to Jaheira. "Show him the Rhynn Lanthorn."

There were soft exclamations as Jaheira reached into her pack and drew out the treasured artefact, carefully removing the thick satin wrappings. An incandescent golden light filled the vast tent. The lantern seemed to sing as Elhan took it into his hands and lifted it to his face, the etched runes flaring brightly as he gently blew on the paned glass.

"The Lanthorn," he whispered, reverent. "I have never seen her so beautiful." He glanced at Rain again, formidable and commanding. "Come," he said, already heading for the canvas flap. "There is no time to waste. Suldanessellar awaits."


	5. Chapter 5

REFORGED

CHAPTER 5 – A BLADE 

Suldanessellar.

It was more beautiful than Rain could have imagined. The exquisite flowing lines of the city were at once exotic yet familiar, making Rain suddenly understand with a sharp pang just how cut off from her own heritage she had been. She walked the high graceful platforms in a state of horror-struck awe. Everywhere she looked, the exquisite elven architecture lay in ruins, stone and wood soaked in blood and gore, the bodies of the fallen crumpled on the walkways. Fires raged in the homes and temples. Smoke rose, thick and acrid.

She should have felt each tortured scream and death as a near-physical blow, the terrible suffering of her kin reverberating through the elven spirit. She should have felt the majestic trees recoiling from the flames. But she did not.

Her connection was utterly severed. Silenced.

Glancing at her horrified companions, Rain recognised the sharp, painful intensity of the anguish in those with elven blood, Kivan's face stark with despair where he flanked her with drawn bow. But her own misery felt strangely hollow and dull; a distant echo of what it should have been. A memory of a memory. She could see and hear the butchery, yes, but she was deaf to the true extent of the torment, the pain that so afflicted her kin. In this, she was as deaf as Anomen and Imoen, with their human senses.

As deaf as _Irenicus_ had once been, before he had stolen her soul and transferred his own curse to her.

She could feel him somewhere nearby, though she wasn't sure exactly what drew her to him. She just _knew_. With growing rage, she hoped he felt the force of every murder that he and his dark minions brought about, every fresh wail of grief.

She wanted him to _suffer_.

After yet another brutal skirmish, Rain dropped to her knees beside a dying soldier and swiftly put her fingertips to his throat, trying to find a pulse. The gaping rent in his chest leached away her hope. There was bloodied foam at his mouth, and his breath gurgled from him, his lung pierced.

His leaf-green eyes sought her face, blank of everything except fear and terrible pain. "Sky," he rasped. He made as though to rise, but fell back weakly. Blood pumped from the wound. "Please."

Rain understood. Very gently, she removed the soldier's helm and cradled his head in her hands, letting him gaze upon the open sky one last time. Kivan crouched beside her and set to work hastily, pressing his palms to the wound and muttering a healing prayer. Scarlet leaked between his fingers. He hesitated, meeting Rain's eyes, and she knew what he did not say aloud.

_I cannot save him_.

It was over quickly. Rain stroked the soldier's matted hair and felt him shudder. A final rattling breath, and then he was still. She sensed the life leaving him, but there was no answering stab of pain inside her, no ripple of sickness and shock. Just...nothing.

Kivan felt differently. He flinched and pitched forward onto his knees, bringing one hand reflexively up to his chest as though to steady his faltering heart. He visibly trembled. When he lowered his hand again, there was a bloodied imprint on his shadow dragon scales, scarlet on black.

"I didn't feel that." Rain stared at him, colourless. "I didn't feel him pass." She shook her head violently, hating the empty, soulless void that now gouged out her being. "I _should_ have."

He refocused and gave her a sudden harsh glance, unaccountably cold. "Be grateful," he snapped. "I had no idea that you were so immune, Rain, or I would have explained his suffering in excruciating detail."

Horrified, Rain gasped, slanting her face away as though he had struck her. But he hadn't finished his tirade.

"I didn't take you to be so cold-hearted," he accused her savagely. "You can watch him die, and then sit back and analyse the _why_ and the _how _of your lack of feeling." He glared at her, his lip curled in contempt. Right now, he seemed more wild animal than man. "I don't know what you are now, Rain, but it's _very_ clear that you are no longer elven. If you were, you would never make light of this."

"I'm not –" Shocked, she struggled to speak. Hurt pierced her, cutting and deep. Under the intensity of his glare, her hands shaking, she laid the soldier's head on the cold stone and wondered how everything had gone so horribly wrong. "That's not fair," she whispered. "I would never make light of this. Do you really think that of me?"

If he did, then perhaps there was no hope for her after all. Coran's voice floated back into her thoughts: _you are a tender flower, my dear, but you also have a heart of stone_.

Stone. Cold-hearted. That was what she needed to be.

If she was to see this through to the end, if she was to run her sword through Irenicus' black heart, then she needed to be cold and hard as metal, unswerving in her purpose.

A blade.

Swiftly, an image interposed itself behind her eyes, the flash of a silver knife held above her face. The very same blade that had cut so precisely, so methodically into her skin. Her screams, shattering the silence. Vivid cerulean eyes peering intently into her own.

Cold. Detached. Cruel.

Pitiless.

_That is what you must be_, the Slayer agreed. It rocked back onto its heels inside her, examining her thoughts and emotions with startled interest. Clearly, it had not expected this of her. _If you are to destroy him, then you must learn from him. _I_ want to destroy him. Our purpose in this is one_.

"Yes." Rain breathed out the word. Across the corpse of the soldier, she swept her eyes over the blood-drenched platform, registering the movements of the others where they tried to assist the remaining wounded. Finally, her black gaze came back to Kivan.

He was staring at her with so much pain-filled horror, absolutely stricken, that it nearly brought down the merciless wall she had just erected between herself and her companions.

Nearly.

"Oh Seldarine," he whispered, bloodless. "What have I done?" He grabbed at her cloak, leaving bloody smears on the grey wool. "I did _not_ mean that. Please, I did not. Rain, listen to me..."

She shook him off and stood. She let his voice fade into the background as she consulted her predator's sense that told her precisely where Irenicus was. Drawing her blades, she followed that lure, stalking the beautiful twisting walkways of Suldanessellar. The Slayer padded along with her. Sharing one skin, they tore through their enemies, Rain's whirling blades painfully bright, Celestial Fury and the Equalizer reflecting the raging glow of the fires.

In a detached corner of her mind, Rain admired the fluid weapon she had become. The Slayer no longer fought her, no longer tried to morph its limbs into her own. No. Now it moved in harmony with her, its immense and primal power fuelling her own. Together, they waded into another battle, Rain cutting down shades with reckless fury. At the rear of the pack, the shadow minions shrank away from her, recognising a bestial power far greater than their own.

They fled.

Many of the elves fled too.

At last, Rain reached the palace chamber that would open the door to her goal, to Irenicus. The tinkling notes of a fountain grated at her not-quite-elven and not-quite-animalistic senses; lovely and harsh, sweet and loud. She shook her head to clear it, suddenly confused.

"Rain?" Her name was said so softly, with so much aching poignancy, that it brought her up short. Her puzzlement deepened.

Kivan stepped into her line of sight. His longbow was slung across his back, his blades securely in their scabbards. His sable hair had come free of its sinew tie in tumbled, dishevelled curls. There was blood smeared across his brow. Keeping his eyes intent on hers, he edged closer to the cascading pool, one hand outstretched as though to soothe a savage animal.

Then he barred her way.

The realisation cut like crystal through her bewilderment. Fury rushed in. Hissing a breath though clenched teeth, she gathered herself and mimicked his movements, stalking him. "Get out of my way."

He recognised his danger instantly. His jet eyes flared, quick and painful and bright, but he didn't back down. "Easy," he murmured, taking a single step closer to her, his demeanour calming. "Easy there, Rain. Sshh. I just want to talk, that's all. Then I will let you go." He lapsed into elvish. She couldn't understand everything he said, but his soft lilting words wove a net around her, his murmured endearments falling like rain on her skin.

That was supposed to mean something to her. She shifted uncertainly.

"Rain," he whispered, "cor'amin. Put away your blades. I am going to come closer, now."

The raw affection in his voice slowly cooled some of the rage in her blood. She glanced down at her hands, saw her blade-hilts still fiercely gripped in them. She eyed him suspiciously and decided to see how far he would take this. "Fine," she bit out, sliding her blades into their sheaths. "Talk quickly. Then you let me past."

Though Kivan made no sound, he seemed to let out a long sigh, rigid tension ebbing from his shoulders. He came within reach of her nails. She could have swiped at him, but she stayed herself, wanting to see how this played out. The Slayer regarded him with dark amusement, thinking him at once brave but foolish. Silently, Rain agreed.

"Rain." He raised one hand, gently laying it against her face. She cringed away from him. "Mellonamin." Slowly, he brought up his other hand. Now he was caging her, lifting her chin, plumbing the very depths of her roiling black eyes. "I know you are in there somewhere," he murmured, "my gentle Rain. Think, cor'amin. Remember who you are. Find yourself and _come back_."

That angered her. She jerked her face out of his hands. "You know nothing of me," she hissed. "_This_ is what I am."

"No, it is not." There was so much knife-edged sorrow in his eyes that it cut her, making her bleed somewhere in the cold, empty wastes where she now hunted with the Slayer. "You are so much more than this," he whispered. "You are radiant and glorious; you are magnificent."

Quickly, he slid one hand behind her neck, pulling her to him in an aggressive arc. His fingers clenched in her vulnerable nape. Slowly, he bent her head backwards, tangling his fingers deep in her braid. With a racing heart, she was aware of his greater strength, of his deliberate domination. The animal inside her shivered with pleasure.

Kivan's eyes were fixed on her lips, his mouth a hairsbreadth from hers. "Tell me you love me."

_What?_ She startled, her thoughts scattered. She tried to form the question. "I..."

He tightened his grip. "Tell me," he repeated, "that you love me."

She stared at him. He was so close that she could have taken what he taunted her with, seizing his mouth and biting down until she drew blood. But some semblance of her old rationality returned. "Is that what you want me to say?" she whispered, trying to draw back. He refused to release her. "Why now? Why ask me this now?"

"Because I want an answer. Tell me, amael."

She thought she recognised that word: _beloved_. It sliced through the last of her blood-hazed confusion. In a sudden panic, she came back into her own mind, jolted out of her beast-like trance.

But still she and the Slayer were one.

Rain answered with a question of her own. "And if I admit this?" she asked softly. "Will you be able to say the same to me in return?"

He went very still. He opened his mouth to speak, but then checked himself; and Rain knew that however much had already changed between them, there were still certain things that Kivan could not bring himself to speak aloud. The most important things. "You hurt my heart," he finally said, his breathing ragged. "So badly."

She tore away from him. "Still you toy with me," she said harshly, blinking back ferocious tears. "You keep me close, and then you push me away. I've had enough, Kivan. No more."

"No?"

The word was so small, so soft and broken, that Rain glanced back despite herself. And then wished she hadn't.

Her ranger, her Kivan, was watching her go with such exquisite, aching despair that her tears spilled over, her blood running hot and then cold. She dashed them away with her hands and strode grimly to the pool, now painfully aware of the others watching her, horrified and pitying. She deadened her heart and shook her head.

"No."


	6. Chapter 6

REFORGED

CHAPTER 6 – THE CHOICES WE MAKE 

Dazed, Kivan trailed the rear of their party, his body feeling strangely slow and heavy as he negotiated the wide, coiling branches of the Tree of Life. Helpless, he watched Rain moving on without them, a remote, solitary figure far ahead who seemed blind to the rest of them; unseeing, unhearing and unfeeling.

Just as she had before, after he had been so viciously cruel.

He felt sick at the thought. There was no excuse for how he had hurt her, his rage boiling with every death of his kin, every thread snapped off the interconnecting web of the elven spirit.

And Rain, or this fusion of woman and beast who was once his beloved Rain; _he_ was to blame for her final transformation. It was he who had cast her out.

Watching her go, Kivan's heart split open again. Pain flared, intense and brutal. Guilt twisted in him, a sharp knife, and bitter regret too.

Her dark power was rising; a black star. Now, she moved like a predator, her steps light and fluid and ruthlessly efficient. Her dishevelled braid was a bright splash of colour against the wilting green leaves. She searched for Irenicus with deathly purpose, her eyes cutting through the twisting tree limbs. Above Suldanessellar, the sky fired with the reds and oranges of sunset, laying a crimson shroud over Rain's hair and skin. But as she walked, so intent on her goal, she seemed almost to drink in the bloodied light, the fiery nimbus failing around her, her shadow deepening.

He was afraid. Terribly afraid.

_You hurt my heart, so badly_.

It was the truth. But not the whole of it. With stark despair, he knew she might be lost to him entirely, before he could beg forgiveness and correct his wrongs. Before he could tell her how he truly felt.

Rain was right. He _did_ keep her close and then push her away, just as she had accused him. And he was so tired of carrying this burden, this overwhelming fear that by admitting he had fallen hopelessly in love with Rain, he was betraying Deheriana.

_I'm sorry. Oh, beloved, I am sorry_. He wasn't quite sure who he meant it for, Rain or Deheriana. Perhaps both of them. His self-recrimination was patterned deeply into his being. He hadn't been sure if he could love these two vastly different women equally, or if he would unconsciously put one ahead of the other. Neither Rain nor Deheriana deserved that. Kivan didn't know how it would change him, how this love would hurt him, or what he might become because of it. But despite her shadows, Rain was painfully bright in his eyes. So beautiful and determined and magnificent; so very _right_. The hunter in him understood her perfectly, the anger and blood-haze and lust for vengeance.

So the truth.

The truth was that he loved Rain fiercely. That his blood ran hot whenever she was near him, whenever she gave him her tiny, soft smile or tilted her head to regard him. When her eyes lit up at the sight of him. Desire was thick in him, and he wanted her. Oh, how he _wanted_. And he wanted to see what together they could become.

_She will not replace you_, he told Deheriana in his mind. _That is not what Rain is, nor is it how I feel about her. She just...she just _is_._

There was no reply of course, but for the first time in years, Kivan felt something free up inside him. The cords that bound him were cut. With new purpose, he lifted his head and squared his shoulders, quickening his steps.

Anomen caught at his cloak as he drew alongside him, urgently commanding his attention. "_Look_ at her," he hissed, horror and fear carved into his features. "She is sunk too far into it. You pulled her out before; you need to do it again. Right now."

"No!" A few steps ahead, Jaheira whirled on them. Anger glittered in her almond eyes. "Don't you dare!" she snarled. "Do neither of you two idiots see it?"

Surprised, Kivan stared at her as she firmed her grasp on her staff, her fingers white-knuckled. Jaheira clenched her teeth and glared at him impatiently.

"She is the perfect weapon," the druid said, utterly ruthless. "Right now, she is what she needs to be. She will cut out Irenicus' heart, and I will have vengeance for Khalid. If you distract her, if you try to bring her out of her rage, she may not have the strength to overcome Irenicus' power." She stepped closer to him, her furious eyes stabbing into his. "Do you understand, Kivan?" she demanded. "Do you?"

For a moment, he didn't know how to answer. With a terrible, sinking feeling, he realised she was right. But how it _hurt_. It hurt to see Rain like this, to leave her like this. "I..." His voice strangled in his throat. He swallowed grimly and gave her a terse nod. "I do."

Jaheira spared no pity for him. "Swear it," she said in a low voice. "Swear to me that you won't try to talk her around."

"Jaheira, is this necessary?" Aerie plucked at a fold of her robe nervously, no colour in her face. "I'm sure he won't –"

"He will!" Jaheira cut across her. Merciless, she grabbed hold of Kivan's cloak and tugged violently. "On your oath as a ranger, swear that you will not interfere!"

Kivan glared down at her. Right now, he hated her more than anything, but he understood her, too. Jaheira clamoured for Irenicus' blood. She needed to see him destroyed, to see his blood spilling thick and scarlet over the dying Tree of Life.

For Khalid.

Just as he had done the same for Deheriana, twice over.

Trembling with fury, he broke the druid's hold and stepped back. "Fine," he snapped. "I swear it."

With his oath given, the anger drained from her. Wearily now, she nodded with satisfaction. "Good."

"But afterwards?" Imoen came between them expectantly, her freckled face anxious where she looked up into Kivan's face. "You will make things right with her afterwards?"

He met her eyes squarely, conviction in his heart. "I will."

xxxx xxxx

Warily now, they approached Rain where she prowled around something embedded deep in the Tree's ancient branches, feeding off it. Kivan could hear and feel the Tree's torment. Pain rolled off it in waves, battering against his already-bruised senses. He winced, the grand immensity of the Tree's dwindling life-force pulling at him, threatening to suck him down with it.

This thing, this parasite, was one of the sources of the Tree's agony. If he concentrated and sent out his spirit, just a little, he could feel others, drinking in the Tree's primordial power. Grimly, he unshouldered his bow and nocked an arrow, sidling up alongside Rain where she could see him.

She turned powerful ebony eyes on him, a creature of might and shadow. If she felt anything for him, she gave no sign. "This thing drains the Tree of Life?" she asked in a cool, detached voice.

Kivan nodded, holding back his flood of emotions with an effort. Jaheira gave him a harsh look. "Yes," he managed. "This one, and others."

"They feed off the Tree for Irenicus. _He_ is here, very close." Rain spun, cat-like, and stared hard towards the centre of the tree. "He is down there. We kill these things, and then we go after him."

Without waiting for a response, she drew her blades and whirled, cutting through the parasite's leaching arms with kensai grace. It shrieked and recoiled from her. Instantly, two fiends formed out of the very air, trying to knock her off the wide branch. With a spurt of fear, Kivan released his arrow and nocked another, his missiles thrumming into his targets. Then Anomen was there, and Jaheira, and the parasite's malevolent guardians were felled.

Rain didn't pause. In one sweeping turn, she drove the Equalizer straight into the parasite's head. The creature shuddered and sagged. For good measure, she twisted her blade and dragged it downwards through resisting flesh, cleaving it in two. Kivan nearly reeled under the Tree of Life's sudden throbbing relief. Rain glanced at him, frowning.

"Can you find the others?"

He looked at her, drawing another arrow. "Yes."

"Then lead on quickly."

It took him only minutes, running nimbly along the tree's great branches. All the while, urgency beat in his blood, knowing their confrontation with Irenicus was nearly at hand. At his heels, Rain was a hunter, saying absolutely nothing as she wielded her blades. Her black eyes seemed glazed, her breaths short. Her skin was a pale shade of grey now, her lips tinged with blue. The shadowy veins on her face had deepened.

_Oh, amael_. His heart clenched in an unbearable knot. _Rain, I am sorry_. He desperately wanted to take hold of her and kiss the life back into her, but his sworn oath stopped him. _Damn you, Jaheira._

Too quickly, the parasites were cut down. Rain wasted no time in hurtling down the branches, her entire being focused on tearing her tormentor limb from limb. With his heart in his throat, Kivan followed, the others racing behind them.

"Irenicus!"

Her voice carried clear through the leaves, shrill with rage and power. Scrambling down the last twining branch, Rain strode with murderous fury across the centre of the Tree, coming to an abrupt halt before the man who stood still and silent before a spelled iron cage, his hands raised in rapture towards the flaming sky. His head was tipped back, his eyes tightly closed. Taken by a surge of black hatred, Kivan pulled back his bowstring and aimed for the column of Irenicus' bare throat, holding back with trembling effort.

"Irenicus!" she screamed again. In the cage, the woman who could only be Queen Ellesime opened her eyes and regarded her in abject horror, gripping the bars fiercely.

"You," the queen breathed, her lovely face strained with sorrow and fear. "Oh child, what has he done to you?"

Ellesime's golden voice seemed to startle Irenicus out of his trance. Like a viper, he spun to meet Rain, his vivid blue eyes widening in fascination as he took in her altered appearance and seething black eyes, recognising the killer she had become. He began to laugh in pleasure and shock, circling her to examine her from every angle. Rain stared fixedly at him. With pure rage, Kivan's fingers shivered on his bowstring, recalling every sadistic thing this madman had done to her.

"My, my," Irenicus mocked, admiring her. "If I had known you were going to transform so completely, so beautifully, I would have kept you as my pet instead." He gave her a cold, calculating smile, edging closer to her. Rain tensed and lifted her blades. "What a shame that I can't now. We _did_ share some...intimate moments, you and I, my little Rain. Do you remember our time together? How I showed you what it means to hurt and hate?" She flinched violently, nearly losing her balance. Irenicus took the opportunity to lunge for her, his masked face intent and cruel.

"_No_!" Kivan's arrow was away before the thought even formed. It hissed towards him, quick as lightning, but Irenicus was faster. Instantly, his spelled shields flashed up, magical light glinting and swirling around him. The arrow disintegrated upon impact.

With that the battle was joined. They had all learned from Irenicus, and they all moved in their roles now, frenzied instinct driving them. With a hate-filled scream, Rain sliced at him, sweeping her blades through his shields. He avoided her; just barely. Twisting back, he ducked away from the glancing blow of Anomen's Crom Faeyr, spitting a deadly spell in Rain's direction. She stumbled but fought on. Jaheira darted in on her other side, stabbing the butt of her staff into Irenicus' thigh. He cursed her and began another spell.

All this Kivan took in at once, his blood roaring with the immediacy of battle. Arrows flew from his hands. Few penetrated Irenicus' defences, but they served as a distraction until Imoen and Aerie could bring down the first of his outer wards. They did so quickly; one layer peeling away, and then another. Kivan's arrows began whirr in earnest.

With a start, Irenicus grasped his danger for the first time. An arrow pierced his shield, striking him in the shoulder. He grunted in pain and stumbled backwards, then swung his gaze about, specifically targeting Aerie. A black bolt fired at her, striking her squarely in the chest.

In the corner of his eye, Kivan saw her fall, her blood soaking through the smoking ruins of her robe. She sprawled across a branch and lay still. He gritted his teeth, grief coursing through him, but there was no time to stop and mourn, no time to rush to her side. Instead he focused on protecting Rain, intensifying his attack.

With Aerie's death, Rain slid her blades into her scabbards and dashed sideways, taking up a position where she could flank Irenicus. Her beautiful face tensed in concentration as she spoke the words of _undoing_, bringing down the next layer of Irenicus' shields.

There was a rumbling as of distant thunder. Ellesime threw herself forward in her cage, adding her magics to the fray. Irenicus let out a blood-curdling scream, suddenly naked of his protections, and Anomen stepped in with renewed vigour. Blow after blow swung at him. Jaheira gasped and doubled over, Irenicus' next bolt taking her in the belly. She went to her knees and clutched at her sides.

Urgently now, sensing the battle was closing, Kivan dropped his longbow and pulled the silver vorpal sword from its sheath, running at him. He was dimly aware of Anomen's hammer thudding into Irenicus' back. The mage howled and fell, clawing at the Tree of Life as though to suck its power into himself, but Kivan caught the toe of his boot in Irenicus' chest and brutally kicked him backwards. He sprawled, his ribs snapping. With a feral smile, Kivan lifted high his sword over Irenicus' heart and prepared to thrust downwards, ready to finish him at last.

"No!" Savagely, Rain shoved him aside. With quick grace, she threw her knee over Irenicus' chest and pinned him, digging her nails into his stitched leather hood. Clenching hard, she pulled his head back and bared his throat, her small knife glinting in her hand. The dying sun reflected from it. Red light scattered, soaking into Rain's skin.

"Irenicus," she hissed, black eyes smouldering. She pressed her knife to his throat, hard. Slowly, with consummate skill, she cut into him, looking deep into his eyes with the intensity of something profoundly personal, adjusting her hold as he bucked beneath her. Blood spurted from his neck and mouth. "It's over," she whispered, drawing her blade cleanly through his throat. "It ends here and now. Give me back my soul and I will grant you oblivion, the only mercy you deserve."

But he didn't. He never would.

Horrified, Kivan cried out as Rain convulsed as though choking, clutching at her own throat. The bloodied blade fell from her hands. Limply, she pitched forward onto Irenicus' neck, gagging. Moving rapidly, throwing aside his sword, Kivan pulled her into his arms and tried to wrench apart the neck of her tunic, tipping her head back to help her breathe.

It didn't work. Gasping, she turned her terrified eyes up to him, clutching at his arms. She mouthed his name and then shuddered, falling still.

Kivan howled. Ripped apart, his heart and mind screaming, he threw himself after her, desperately seeking the tendril of Rain's shrinking, fading spirit.

He was never going to leave her ever again.


	7. Chapter 7

REFORGED

CHAPTER 7 – WHITE FIRE 

Cold stone, hard and unforgiving, beneath him.

Searing heat, fanning above his face in swirling, lazy currents.

Darkness. The sense of a vast cavernous space, and a distant wind, howling and raging. These were the first things Kivan became aware of as he slowly drifted back to himself, tugging the ragged ends of his consciousness into a bewildered, uncomprehending whole.

For a moment, he couldn't remember why he was here.

Or, more terrifyingly, where _here_ even was.

It was not Arvanaith. This eerie place of icy rock and infernal heat was not the paradise he had expected; he did _not _need to open his eyes to know that. But how he had come to be here, and the why of it, eluded him.

He panicked. Desperately, he tried to push himself upright, frantically searching his sluggish memory. His body seemed like mist and vapour, not quite formed. With a start of pure terror, he shrank back into himself, trying to remember what it felt like to live and breathe.

_Kivan_.

That beautiful voice in his mind, piercing through his overwhelming fear. A sudden brightness in the darkness like white fire, a star rising in his thoughts.

_Kivan!_ Fingers ran over his skin, at once gentle but insistent, urgent. _Kivan, please, you must listen to me! Remember who you are. Remember your flesh and bones, and how it feels to be inside your skin. _Swiftly, those hands traced the plane of his cheek and the line of his neck, sloping down to his shoulders and running the length of his back. Showing him how to shape himself; how to reform. _Please_, she whispered again in his ear. She was warm and close, smoothing his hair. _Remember what you are to me, what you are in this life. Come back to yourself, please!_

That voice, that star... He could feel her fear, her terrible anguish. Memory returned in a violent rush.

Rain, dying in his arms. Her emptying eyes, her dwindling soul. How he had thrown himself headlong after her, his spirit unfurling into a single, trembling thread as he slipped away into the enveloping darkness, chasing the very faint spark that was her.

A falling star.

And now this.

Gasping, Kivan returned to himself fully. His eyes flew open. Wildly, he rolled onto his back and sought her, his breath stopping in his throat as he looked up into Rain's anxious face.

Oh, Seldarine, she was _beautiful_. Here, in this dim place, she glowed like a silver sun, her skin spun of translucent moonbeams and her eyes fathomless, midnight pools. Her hair was loose and flowing, falling forward to brush against him as she leaned over him. Fascinated, he reached out to curl a lock around his finger, barely aware of what he was doing. The hue was not russet anymore, he realised, but a curious layering of deep shadow over an ephemeral brightness, as though her hair floated through water. A subdued shade of sapphire. But the tendril wound around his finger felt soft and real. _She_ felt real.

"Rain," he breathed, caught in her dark, dark eyes. "Elen'amin. My star."

With a sharp intake of breath, she closed her eyes, her shoulders sagging in sheer relief. She bowed her head. Clumsily, he uncoiled her hair and pulled her down with him to the hard ground, embracing her fiercely. Joy filled him, bright and painful.

She let him hold her. "Kivan," she whispered against the hollow of his throat, tender and wondering. "I am so glad to see you. But how is it that you are here?"

He wasn't sure himself. "I followed you," he said hoarsely, his chest constricting. "Oh Rain, cor'amin. I thought I had lost you." His fear returned, sliding like ice down his spine.

"Shh." Rain murmured to him soothingly. "It's alright." Lifting her head, she drew back and eased herself out of his arms, rising to her knees beside him. She looked down into his face very gravely. "You shouldn't be here," she told him, grimly now. "This place isn't safe for you."

Which cut straight to the heart of the matter.

Apprehensive, Kivan levered up onto his elbows and sat awkwardly, trying to get used to the ethereal lightness of his body. For the first time, he was able to clearly see the hellish, unnatural plane they were in, the murky dimness fading as Rain glanced about with him. The stone walls seemed to shimmer and waver beneath her gaze, then return more solidly. It was a nightmarish place; horrifying. Dread twisted in his gut. "Rain," he said uneasily, eyeing her warily. "Where are we?"

She was quiet a moment, considering him. "I think this is my father's realm," she finally said. "I have been here before, in dreams."

Fear rose, thick and choking. He swallowed past the sudden tightness in his throat. "But this is no dream," he rasped. "Are we..." He forced out the words. "Are we dead?"

Rain didn't shy away from it. "I am not certain." Holding out her iridescent hands, she frowned down at them, a crease appearing between her fine brows. "I am, perhaps," she allowed very softly. "But somehow, I have not dissolved. Not like Sarevok did when he died."

Kivan's heart clenched, terrified that she might be right, that she may indeed be dead. But she didn't seem to notice. There was a faraway look to her face now, as though her attention were divided between him and something else, something in the background that he could not sense.

"Perhaps it is because I had no soul of my own," she added musingly. "Or only the glimmer of one." She shook her head lightly, her shadowy blue hair cascading about her. "I can't say for sure."

She paused, tilting her head as though listening intently.

"There," she hissed, her chin coming up. "Do you feel it? We are not alone. Irenicus is here. He is _here_ somewhere, walking where he does not belong. The stone recoils from him. He trespasses on _my_ plane, seeking to rule with my stolen soul."

Swiftly, she lunged to her feet, all honed purpose. She turned in a slow circle, seeking.

With difficulty, Kivan stood, his knees trembling and weak. He was not nearly as strong here as she was. Rain was in her element, powerful and focused, just as she had been at the Tree of Life. But something was different. Watching her, he realised the cold, animalistic part of her was gone. Now, she seemed almost her old self, confident and assured, though patterned in cool blues and shimmering silvers, shadow and light playing through her being. The muted colours rippled like water. She reminded him of the endless ocean. Of rain falling as mist over the sea.

His breath caught. With a heart-felt pang, he recognised what he was seeing: the tiny essence of her soul that yet remained.

The part that was _her_.

She had lost her vibrancy, yes, the bright colours that had bled out of her. But _oh_, she was so very compelling, so tantalising to his senses. Kivan was heady with it. Drawn to her irresistibly, he came up behind her and took her gleaming shoulders in his hands, shivering with pleasure. She turned and looked up into his face.

"Rain," he whispered, amazed. "What do you see when you look at me? What colours am I to you?"

Her lips parted. Going very still, her eyes searching his, she reached up between them and laid her silvery fingers against the side of his face. "You look like the forest," she breathed. "Deep greens and browns and moving shadows, sunlight on leaves. Your eyes are a glistening black. And here..." She moved her hand to his chest, resting it over his heart. "Here, you are golden topaz and warm amber, loyal and devoted and strong."

Her words, her voice... It pleased him more than he ever could have thought possible. Love flared brightly in him, sweet and unbearably sharp now that the forms of their souls were touching, the spark of her very close. Kivan had the sudden awareness that a declaration spoken here might bind him to her for all eternity.

For what little time they had left.

He remembered her warning, spoken those few nights ago. _I don't have more time. I am dying, Kivan. It won't take long now._

"Amael," he murmured. He bent his head to her gracefully-pointed ear and blew softly, savouring the way how _beloved_ sounded, how it rolled off his tongue. "_Rosa_. Rain_._ There is something we need to speak of."

She pulled away to look at him, her blue hair drifting in the hot, fiery breeze.

Then she froze.

"Wait," she whispered, utterly motionless. "Hold. There are more of us. Others." Hastily, she spun out of his arms, whirling to face a massive stone door where eddying gusts were taking shape before it, resolving into the elusive forms of their fallen companions. Wraith-like, they twined on the cold stone floor, hammered between the anvil of glacial ice and a forge's fierce heat.

"Help me!" she cried, running towards them. "Kivan, please! Help me reform them!"

xxxx xxxx

He did as Rain had done for him, kneeling beside Imoen and coaxing her back into being. Perhaps it was because she was also a daughter of Bhaal, and a mage, but she seemed to reform with little difficulty. She opened startled eyes and looked about the plane with wonder.

There was no time for him to waste. He turned to Aerie next, holding her ghostly arms to bring her out of her frenzied thrashing. "Aerie," he called, helping her focus on his voice. "Think of what it means to be you. Think of how it feels to be alive."

She did, though her transformation took him completely by surprise. Astonished, he scrambled backwards as the luminous golden light that was _her_ changed shape, great wings hued in silver and dusky rose spreading from her back. With a small cry, she came fully into herself. Kivan stared at her, unable to look away.

"Oh, Aerie," he whispered, awed. "Your wings. I knew they would be beautiful, but I had no idea they would be so glorious."

He wasn't the only one to feel that way. Rain sank to her knees beside him and steadied herself with a hand on his shoulder, surveying the avariel in amazement. "So beautiful," she breathed. "I would have given anything to see you like this, to see your wings."

"Would you give your life?" That was Jaheira, still weak from her change. Here, she was earthy tones of green and auburn, with a pulsing of honeyed light. She stood ungainly, rubbing at her arms. "I may have," she said darkly, though she didn't seem overly bitter or despairing at the prospect as Kivan would have imagined. But then again, she had lost Khalid. He knew what it was like to have little care for living.

"No." Rain's denial was very soft. At his side, she slowly shook her head. "You are not dead, Jaheira. I can feel it somehow. None of you are, except..." She choked off, looking at Aerie again.

Kivan felt a long shiver go through him. Grief-stricken, he blindly sought Rain's hand, laying his fingers over hers. Her sharp sorrow filtered to him.

"_Me_." Aerie's voice was barely audible. She gained her feet, tentatively trying her wings. The long pinioned feathers stretched, ivory and shimmering silver, edged in that rose. "Or I was," she amended softly. "But here... Here I am real. Here I have my wings." With a strangled sob, she spread her wings entirely. They seemed to fill the vast space, strong and splendid. Tears slipped down her golden cheeks. "Here I am free!"

Throwing herself forward, she launched into the air, her wings beating with incredible strength. Buffeted, Kivan threw a hand up to shield his face and then tracked her progress, his heart lifting at the rare sight of her. Aerie soared on the plane's thermal currents. She arced and spiralled, a faery of glistening beauty in this frightening plane.

"Wow!" Imoen craned her neck back. Her hair was garnet here, deep jewelled tones in her sparkling eyes and ethereal body. "I wonder if I can do that too. Rain, can you give me wings?" she wheedled. "Pretty please?"

She gave a short ironic laugh, her fingers tightening briefly on Kivan's shoulder. "I don't think that has anything to do with me," she said dryly. "If you want wings, you'll need to manage it yourself."

Imoen looked crestfallen. "Figures," she muttered. She turned her head to peer over her shoulder, grimacing.

Rain's faint smile faded. She didn't resist as Kivan tugged her gently to her feet, her attention diverted again. Her silvered face was very grim.

"Where is Anomen?" he questioned, glancing around with a worried frown.

"He didn't come." Rain answered him distractedly. She closed her eyes briefly, her head turning towards the enormous stone door. "I can't sense him anywhere. Perhaps he was not injured in our battle with Irenicus, or this plane is closed to him."

"This is Bhaal's plane?" Jaheira cocked her head to one side, considering Rain warily. "Yes, it must be. Only his realm would feel like death and blood, filled with the screams of the dead and dying." She flickered a glance at Kivan, distaste thick in her. He narrowed his eyes at her in warning. "Well, there must be some purpose in our coming here. Purpose in _your_ coming here," she said to Rain.

"Indeed," she murmured. Stepping forward, she moved to the closed doorway and lightly pressed her hands to the stone, leaning her brow against it in intense concentration. The shadows flared in her. Troubled, Kivan went to her, laying a hand on her silken shoulder where silvered water mingled with starlight.

"Is Irenicus nearby?" he asked in a low voice.

"_Yes_." The word hissed out from between her teeth. "He stalks us. He moves too quickly, more quickly than us."

Lifting her hands from the rock, Rain began to follow the contours of the cavern, passing beneath misshapen stone forms and grotesque eyes. Kivan flanked her warily.

She glanced at him, offering a tiny mirthless smile. "Still my loyal protector," she observed softly. "Even here, in this terrifying place."

He raised a brow at her. "Would you have it otherwise?"

"No." Her midnight eyes softened, the silvers and blues in her brightening. "Not at all. But come. I must learn what I am, and how I am to defeat Irenicus at last." She raised her chin, determined. "How I am to win back my soul."

xxxx xxxx

Through hot, stifling rooms they moved, the cavern roof yawning open to a wild, grey sky. Rain took it in stride. Test after test was required of her, spiteful fiends trying to twist what she was into something black and dire, turning the dark mirror of herself back on her. Trying to tempt the Slayer inside her.

Each fiend doubted her worthiness to hold the Tears of Bhaal. But Rain did not succumb. Staying true to herself, the _real_ her that shimmered so beautifully in Kivan's eyes, she simply squared her shoulders and did what needed to be done. Undaunted. She did not shrink from the horrors of her father's plane, but neither did she allow herself to be corrupted.

When she refused Black Razor, Kivan's heart swelled with pride. Just being near her had him in a state of dizzied awe. Her quiet, commanding presence was growing, her courage sure and strong. But the sword's significance raised a burning question in his mind.

"You did the right thing," he said quietly, padding along beside her. "I could feel that sword's evil; it has thirsted for the blood of too many innocents." He frowned uncertainly. "But it worries me, too."

He stopped and faced her, trying to put his fear into words. "We don't have any weapons here," he noted. "No blades or bow. It is just us, _Rosa_, and what we can do with magic and our bare hands." He glanced down at them briefly, balling them into frustrated fists. Resolve fired him. Fiercely now, he looked back into her eyes. "I will rip him apart with my very fingers if I need to," he said harshly. "Do not worry, Rain. I will find a way to assist you."

She smiled at him very gently. "I do not doubt it," she murmured. "But I have been thinking about this also." Turning a little, she glanced around the eerie plane, assessing it. "These creatures, these fiends...they keep saying that I have power here. That I can shape this realm to my will. What if –?" She let her voice trail off into a musing silence.

Kivan watched her, intrigued. Right now, he didn't think he would be surprised by anything she set her mind to do. He smiled faintly at the thought.

Suddenly, Rain raised her head and fixed him with an intent look. "Kivan," she said quickly. "Can you tell me about how it feels to draw your bow? How the wood and string feel beneath your fingers? How your arrows fly?"

He blinked at her, taken off guard. "Of course."

"Show me."

Bemused, he went to her, coming to stand behind her. He carefully put his arms around her and guided her hands, mimicking the motion of drawing back his longbow. Her sapphire hair tickled his face and chin. "Like this, vanima," he said, far too easily distracted by how close she was and how good it felt to have his hands on her silvery skin. How _natural_. "The shaft is supple and strong, bending to the pull of the string. The bowstring glistens in the sunlight, taut." He pulled Rain's curled fingers to her jaw, showing her how to draw back and loose. "Then the arrow snaps free, swift and sure."

"Like this?" She repeated the movement again. He nodded, satisfied, and let her go.

For a moment, Rain was still and silent. She closed her eyes and seemed to reach down deep inside herself. Then, in one quick motion, she called a pure white light to her fingertips and _created_, forming the bow's arching stave and the thrumming, released string.

Stunned, Kivan stared at her, at the gleaming ivory bow she now held in her hands. There was a glinting after-burn in his vision.

"Oh," she gasped, as shocked as he was. Weakly, she thrust the bow at him and stumbled, looking like all the strength had just drained from her limbs. She leaned her back against the cavern wall and breathed heavily.

"Did I just see what I _think_ you just did?" Jaheira regarded her in utter amazement.

Kivan swallowed tightly. "Yes," he agreed, looking down at the bow now gracing his hands. It was smooth and splendid to his touch, warming him like the dazzling white fire from which it had sprung. "Yes, you did." He looked at Rain a long moment, willing her to meet his eyes. She did so, pale as moonlight. The smile he gave her was slow and spreading, with a good deal of heat. "Well, amael. You seem to have discovered a mysterious talent."

"Apparently," she muttered. She closed her eyes and then let out a muffled laugh, surprised at herself.

"_Now_ can I have those wings?" Imoen put her hands on her hips and gave her sister an exuberant smirk.

"I..." Rain put a hand to her brow. "I think I need a moment," she said feebly.

Kivan sauntered over to her at the wall and leaned back casually. She glanced at the shining bow, tracing its length with her awed gaze.

"Will it serve?" she asked him dubiously.

"Oh, yes." He gave her that slow smile. "Yes it will. You have warmed my archer's heart through and through, amael."

Jaheira shook her head as though to clear it. "Gorion's ward," she said dryly. "Is there anything you can't do?"

Rain stiffened. Tipping her head back, she looked up to where Aerie stood tall and proud atop a high stone column, her magnificent wings gleaming against the rushing, stormy skies. The avariel returned her gaze fiercely, putting Kivan in mind of an avenging angel, or a near-celestial being. "Yes," she finally whispered. "I can't truly return her wings, even if I made them here. Nor can I bring her back to life."

Kivan's heart stilled and then beat again. "Maybe not," he said softly. "But Queen Ellesime's priestesses may still have a chance, to bring her back to her body at least." _Her wingless body_. He hid his wince. "Take heart, elen'amin," he told her gently. "There is hope for us all yet."


	8. Chapter 8

REFORGED

CHAPTER 8 – DARK MIRROR

_Irenicus_.

Rain silently whispered his name, the hiss of it in her thoughts. On the other side of the closed stone gateway, she sensed him pause and cock his head towards her, listening. The flow of the plane's disrupted energies warped and slowed: in his inattention, his grip on them waned, the sinuous threads of power trying to wrest free of his covetous grasp.

With a soft intake of breath, Rain pressed herself closer to the stone, intent on him. Ice bit into her skin. She pushed her mind past both the cold rock and the lazy, sullen heat, concentrating fiercely on the sense of him that filtered down their soul-bond.

_Good_, she thought to him, intuition sharp in her. _This plane rejects you. You think to wield its might, but in the end, it is not yours to use. It is not your birthright. You have no chance, Irenicus, and I will finish you_.

His contempt seeped to her. _So you say_, he whispered. _So you say_.

Swiftly, he lashed out with her own quicksilver fire, using the opportunity to stun her while her own psychic defences lay down. Visions of her torture flashed behind her eyes. There was the heavy clank of iron manacles on her wrists, the wicked edge of a knife held to her throat, the steel slick with her blood. The impression of him _cutting_. With bitter relish, he re-enacted the horrific nature of their shared deaths, the death _she_ had inflicted upon him.

Rain squeezed her eyes shut in stark terror, her heart thudding in her breast.

"No!" she cried, recoiling. Jerking backwards from the door, she stumbled into someone and fell, landing awkwardly on the cavern floor with her foot twisted beneath her. Pain bloomed. Desperately, before the black tide of Irenicus' power could sweep her away, Rain _pulled_ herself back, trying to yank her mind free of his.

There was a violent tug. Her thoughts seemed to spin apart, the visions fraying. Blackness rushed then.

Then there was nothing but sweet, blessed release.

Relief washed over her. Quickly, before he could invade again, Rain reinforced her mind, making her will strong and resilient. An iron-clad fortress.

Irenicus laughed softly. He flicked her a sly, questing sally from beyond the doorway, searching for cracks in her shield. She gritted her teeth and withstood him.

The sense of him changed. Now disdain rolled off him, cold and scornful, but something else lay beneath it. Wariness? Suspicion? She couldn't be certain without dropping her guard.

Soon enough, Irenicus withdrew.

_Gone_.

Gone back to whatever mischief he was weaving on the other side of the stone door.

Trembling, Rain sat up and eased her foot out from under her, wincing at the pain throbbing through her ankle. She bent her head and chafed it briskly. A thought came to her. Focusing on healing, she called that silver fire to her fingers and rubbed it into her flesh, satisfaction filling her as the pain lessened. When she could concentrate properly, she bolstered her mental shield, determined not to think of those manacles, of that knife at her throat.

"Go away," she muttered, her voice flat. "And stay out of my head. I am not afraid of you, Irenicus; not anymore."

"_Rosa_?" Kivan's voice was very soft, worried. He crouched beside her, protectively close, but seemed uncertain; he had probably first thought that her words were meant for him. Rain raised her eyes to his. At the look on his face, the care in his eyes, her heart soared. The beautiful way he said her name in his lilting elvish made her quicken inside, brimming with a sweet, fierce heat. "Did I hurt you?" he asked, concerned.

"What?" Rain stared at him blankly. Her mouth went dry. His eyes were polished ebony here, black as night, bright and intent. His hair tumbled about his shoulders in thick, raven curls. The locks stirred lightly in the planar breeze, moving like the forest shadows in his soul: tawny hues swirling with smoky velvets, deep emerald tones pulsing to sunlit jades.

Leaves swaying in the wind.

"When you tripped and fell," he prompted, lifting a brow at her.

_Oh_. "No," she said quickly, hastening to reassure him. "No, you didn't. Did I hurt you?"

Kivan shook his head. The black curls drifted over his shoulder, the smokiness of them drawing her eyes. She ran her gaze across the mesmerising lines of him. The glistening bowstring cut across his chest, the longbow's curved shaft rising above him. Distracted, she glanced at his heart.

The warm golds brightened. Amber flared, rich and molten, glinting with saffron and copper.

It was just as well that she was already sitting down. Otherwise, her knees would have buckled.

With difficulty, she lifted her gaze from his chest. He was watching her closely, a spark of amusement in his eyes. His mouth twitched into a playful smile.

"Is there something you need to tell me?" he asked, settling himself more closely to her. "About what just happened?"

"Yes." Rain sobered. "It was Irenicus," she told him. "Here, in this place, I can sense his thoughts, but it goes both ways. I made the deadly mistake of leaving my mind vulnerable to him. He took advantage and poured visions of malice down our bond, replaying scenes of my torture." Her voice lowered. "Except this time, he held his blade to _my_ throat."

Kivan winced. "Amael," he said softly, comforting. Gently, he reached for her hand and laced her fingers through his. She shivered in delight, heat licking across her skin. Little tingles of pleasure sparked in her flesh. "He seeks to make you his victim again," he observed grimly. "But the tide has turned. Guard yourself closely, cor'amin. You are stronger than he is."

His staunch faith warmed her. "I am strong, yes," she agreed, "and I am slowly learning how to use this plane's power." She glanced up at the skies where the energies spun in a mad whirlwind. She could feel them intensifying; the time was drawing near for her final confrontation with Irenicus. "But he also commands great power," she warned. "He drinks in the violent forces of this place with my stolen soul, trying to bend them to his use."

"Then we will stop him." Kivan was unfazed. "_Rosa_, you can call starfire at will," he said dryly. "An incredible feat. Look at what you have done here, what you have created for all of us."

She did so. Nearby, Imoen met her eyes fearlessly, brandishing her ivory short-sword. Jaheira and Aerie flanked her, leaning into slender white staffs. The avariel's lovely wings were spread. Feathers rustled softly; here, in Bhaal's realm, they were as real as any soaring swan's.

Kivan gave her a tiny, indecipherable smile. "You have nothing to fear from Irenicus," he said, bringing her gaze back to him. His voice hardened. "In fact, _he_ should be the one fearing you."

"We will see," she allowed.

There was a sudden shivering in the rock beneath her. A sensation grew that the plane itself was focused on her, waiting for Rain to make her move. The energies hissed and swirled. They resonated in her, making the power prickle in her fingertips, crackling and impatient. The starfire, as Kivan had called it.

"It is time." Absolutely certain, Rain pushed herself to her feet, pulling Kivan up with her. He nodded calmly.

Turning to Imoen, Rain hugged her tightly, drawing strength from her sister's unfailing support.

"Let's go win back your soul," Immy whispered. "Time to give Irenicus what's coming to him."

They broke apart. Aerie was there next, embracing her fiercely, her silver and rose wings brushing Rain's arms. They were the softest down. "You gave me the chance to fly again," Aerie said, tight with emotion. "I will never forget this, Rain. _Never_. In my heart, I call you sister."

Joyous tears smarted in Rain's eyes. She pulled back and smiled, holding Aerie's golden shoulders at arm's length. "The honour is mine," she said seriously.

"Rain?" Jaheira stepped in, giving her wry smile. "Child. We have walked a long road together, have we not?" The druid put her arms around her. Not quite stern, but rather determined and unyielding, she unfolded Rain from her grasp and gave her a gentle push towards the door. "Go, child," she said. "Lead on, and we will follow."

"But not yet." The words were whispered, harsh.

Going very still, her heart pounding, Rain waited as Kivan slowly drew near, his gaze burning into her upturned face. There was a complicated set to his mouth. It was at once soft but fierce, tender but resolved. He flickered a look at Jaheira, unreadable, then brought his eyes back to hers. "Amael?"

Very lightly, he laid the back of his hand against her cheek, curling his fingers in a tender caress. Her heart fired. Painfully, Rain pressed her face into his hand, seeking more.

"Rain," he said softly. Holding her eyes, he stepped in close and took her shoulders in his hands, his touch warm and wonderful. "You are strong and beautiful," he told her steadily. "So full of courage. It blazes in you like a star. Rest assured, amael, that I will follow you into the darkest planes in existence, if need be."

Leaning forward, he gently kissed her brow. It was a soft, lingering touch, putting her in mind of a promise.

_I always keep my promises, Rain. Every one_.

The breath caught in her throat. "Kivan?" she whispered, choking up.

For a moment, too brief, he pulled her closer and rested his brow on hers. She sighed and leaned into him. He shivered, a long trembling that she felt in his body, pressed very close. Then he brushed his lips over her skin once more. "Go," he breathed. "Go now, elen'amin. Open your gateway. I will be there by your side, never fear."

xxxx xxxx

Rain splayed her hands over the carved stone door. Confidently, with no trace of doubt, she exerted her will and _thought_ of it splitting in two, of the rock cleaving open.

There was a low rumbling. The cavern began to tremble, as though she had called up an earthquake. The icy stone flared red-hot beneath her fingers, burning.

She hissed out a breath, startled, and danced back. The door turned molten. The rock seemed to bubble and slide away into thick scarlet pools, the smell of sulphur acrid and stinging.

But behind it... Behind the door was a shimmering mirror. It was not black, but a tarnished silver, rippling as though a stone had been dropped into a pond. Rain took a careful step forward to examine it, fascinated.

Movement in the mirror caught her eye. Her own refection stepped up to her.

What looked back was her face, her form, but _different_. Flawed. Her hair was black as midnight, cascading over her shoulders in long, curling tendrils that contrasted with the pale silver of her skin. The tips of her pointed ears gleamed against the black curls, familiar and yet _not_. Her mouth was the same, the same soft rose, but it was set very thinly in a challenging look, cool and mocking. And her eyes... Her eyes _burned_. It was the same savage light she had seen in Sarevok's face, the golden glow of unleashed power.

It was the dark mirror of herself, reflected back at her.

"I understand," Rain told her reflection. In order to pass through the door, she had to accept what she was. Every part. She had already begun to do so, when she had melded with the Slayer at the Tree of Life. But this was different.

Lifting her hands, Rain pressed them to the mirror, her shadow-reflection doing the same. There was a lightning flash of recognition where they touched.

"I am in you, and you are in me," she agreed. Her eyes turned fierce. "But I am myself, also. I am Rain of Candlekeep. Not just a daughter of Bhaal, not just an elf. I am _me_."

Swiftly, without thought, Rain pushed into the mirror. The tarnished surface gave way like water. The starfire _blazed_. White light poured through her being, drenching every pore. Breathing hard, Rain pushed the rest of the way through, emerging on the other side of the plane.

The Slayer awaited her.

Murderous limbs and reaching, slashing claws; crimson scales cladding thick leather hide, reflecting the fires that raged on this side of the plane. A contorted, misshapen head. The scarlet eyes fixed on her, gleaming with savage delight.

"Rain," it snarled, swaying towards her.

She pulled up short. Gasping, she craned her neck back, netted by those amused, malicious eyes, glaring down at her from high above.

_No, not the Slayer_, she realised. This was Irenicus.

"You," she hissed. Fury flooded her. Nimbly, she spun out of the way of those snapping claws, dashing beneath the sinuous arm that tried to grab her and smash her against the rock wall. She danced out of reach. Calling the starfire, she traced a slender, arcing blade, gripping the hilt hard.

And then she stopped dead.

Irenicus was not alone. A familiar hulking shape stepped into view, massive iron spikes rising from the shoulders of heavy plate armour. Golden eyes burned into hers.

Rain paled. "Sarevok," she whispered, dismayed. Edging closer to the wall, she sidled along it so she could keep both Irenicus and her dead brother at an equal distance, a horrified cry tearing from her throat as Kivan stumbled from the gateway. "Watch out!" she screamed, seeing Irenicus turn on him.

He ducked and slid away from the sweeping claws, all fluid, elven grace. Whirling to face Irenicus, he skipped backwards, pulling his bow over his head in one quick motion and drawing back the string. It thrummed, snapping free. A hissing bolt of white fire flew from it, striking the Slayer's scaled chest. Irenicus roared. A wisp of smoke rose from the rent in the beast's scales, the wound sizzling.

Kivan leaped away and led a weaving, taunting dance, drawing Irenicus away from the portal where the others had now emerged. Aerie took wing. She beat upwards, high above their foes, her staff flashing. Then she drove herself at Irenicus. The end of her staff slammed into the Slayer's spiny back, making Irenicus round on her with a savage howl. He slashed at her, narrowly missing the ends of her feathers. She cried out and beat backwards, climbing high again. Jaheira ran in, sweeping her staff at the Slayer's clawed feet, then dodged away, taking her out of range again.

A shower of hissing sparks struck the Slayer's flesh; bright and scalding. On the other side of the cavern, Imoen slipped into the shadow cast by a high stone column and wove the next of her deadly magics, her jewelled eyes fierce and focused.

Which left Sarevok for Rain.

Clenching her teeth, she stepped in to meet her brother, a low sound like a growl coming from her throat. She brought that crackling fire to her fingertips again. Sweeping her hand through the air, she made another sword and raised her blades in front of her, defensive. Then she began to match Sarevok's slow, circling steps. She measured him as he was measuring her, learning his swordplay forms again.

He chuckled, low and throaty. "Well, dear sister," he mocked. "We meet again in our father's realm, in this place that should have been _mine_." His voice was the same as she remembered; deep and smooth, and supremely confident. "How ironic that your soul should be enslaved by another, by one not of the blood."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You are nothing but a wraith, Sarevok," she hissed. "A ghost. Slink back to whatever hell you crawled out of."

Sarevok's lips peeled back in a snarl. He brought his broadsword up, shifting his weight onto the balls of his feet. "Elfling bitch," he sneered. "Look at you, puny one. All spindly and weak, with not even a spark of your own soul."

Quickly, with a speed that belied his great size, he swung at her, the breath of his sword hissing past her shoulder. Rain darted aside. Spinning on her feet, she lashed at him, bringing both blades around in an arcing circle. They bit into the side of his breastplate. Cursing her, Sarevok faltered, staring in shock at the black rifts that had just opened up in his soul-form; misty vapour trailing from him like smoke.

Rain seized on it. "You are not properly formed," she told him ferociously, the knowledge of it humming in her blood. "This is not Irenicus' plane; nor is it yours. You are nothing but smoke." She whirled on him again, crossing her blades and sweeping them through his chest. He shrieked and stumbled backwards. "What did he promise you?" she demanded, advancing on him. "What bargain did you strike?"

Sarevok glared at her in pure hatred, clutching the ragged ends of his breastplate. "A piece of your soul," he spat. "A piece of _you_, little sister."

She snarled at him. "You can't have me." Lifting her swords, she focused on those gaping rifts and swung again, tearing him open. Sarevok screamed, a brutal sound that reverberated around the cavern. The sword fell from his grasp. Falling to his knees, he looked up into her determined face, his golden eyes dimming.

Rain set her blades at his neck. Their eyes locked. "I am giving you a choice," she said very grimly. "Go back to Bhaal's essence, willingly. This is over between us. Otherwise, I will carve you into utter non-existence."

He lifted his chin, stubborn and brave. His golden eyes glared into hers. "I am no coward," he hissed. Slowly, deliberately, he pressed his neck into her blades, goading her.

She sighed. "So be it."

Bringing her arms up, she slashed downwards, cleaving his head from his neck. Sarevok's body broke apart. Mist scattered, swirling and black. Then he was gone.

xxxx xxxx

With Sarevok's death, there was nothing to keep her from Irenicus.

Hastily, she turned back to the battle raging before her, seeing the Slayer tearing at Aerie's wings. Irenicus snatched her from the sky with one monstrous hand. With another, he shredded her beautiful feathers, dragging his claws through one buffeting wing. Aerie screamed. Throwing out a fist, she pummelled one of the Slayer's eyes, hitting the vulnerable spot hard enough that Irenicus dropped her. She scuttled backwards and cowered against the wall, ragged and shivering.

Sensing victory, Irenicus followed her, massive limbs swaying and reaching. But Kivan got there first. He darted in and stood his ground, feet braced, his longbow lifted high as he fired rapidly. Quicker than lightning, the bolts thudded into the beast's scales.

Irenicus swiped at him. The brutal claws caught him, tearing a long, wrenching gash across his shoulders and back that had him gasping in agony, the bow falling from nerveless fingers. Irenicus picked him up and flung him against a stone pillar. Kivan hit it with a brutal thump and went still.

"_No_!" Rain made a sound that she had never heard before; a high-pitched, wailing shriek that made Irenicus swing back on her. She hurtled forward, blades lifted. Heedless of the slashing arms, she cut into him, the pure fire of her blades opening up the Slayer's red scales. Irenicus tore at her, flaying apart her spirit flesh. Unbearable agony ripped through her back. Stumbling, she somehow evaded the claws reaching for her head and brought her blades up again, just in time to slice them across Irenicus' chest. He fumbled for her and clenched hard, sending her sprawling across the cavern floor. Her blades clattered on the stone.

For a moment, all went dark. There was a roaring in Rain's ears. The plane seemed to shrink around her until she was the sole focus of its whirling, mighty forces, the howling energies beating at her flesh.

Then there was stillness. In the sudden calm, Rain felt it: her soul, inside Irenicus' twisted form, crying for release.

Slowly, she raised her head. Irenicus loomed over her. With an exultant cry, he stooped down with the Slayer's rending claws and tore into her defenceless flesh, making her scream, shrill and tortured. She railed at him with her fists. Breaking free, she rolled beneath his legs, slapped away by the massive tail. Magic crackled in the air, striking the Slayer squarely in the back.

Giving her just enough time to lever herself to her feet.

Painfully, her body gashed and broken, Rain lurched sideways. The serpentine tail whipped at her. Now, Jaheira was shouting in Irenicus' face, stabbing her staff into his wounds. Fiery missiles arced through the air from opposite directions; Imoen and Aerie.

Sizing up the Slayer's bristling back, Rain gathered herself for her final assault, finally understanding what needed to be done.

She needed to call back her soul.

But she couldn't do it without having her hands on his flesh; skin on skin, the most intimate of contact.

There was movement in the periphery of her vision. Kivan struggled upright, bleeding smoky colour. He staggered towards her, almost drunkenly. "Rain," he rasped, somehow comprehending what she was about to do. "No, Rain, _no_!"

Their eyes met across the cavern. For a split second, her heart cried what she had never said aloud.

_I love you_.

Then there was nothing but her instinct. Rain called the starfire and let it rush through her being, her skin glowing with blinding light. She launched herself at Irenicus. Grabbing the sharp spines, she pulled herself up the Slayer's back, the barbs cutting into her hands. She held on with all the iron will she could muster and tightened her hold, gripping his back with her knees.

Irenicus jerked sideways, roaring, trying to throw her off. He tore at her face and shoulders, raking his claws down her back. Moaning, trying to concentrate through a film of tormented agony that not even Irenicus' tortures had prepared her for, Rain clung to him, fierce tears in her eyes. Raising her fire, she scorched it through his scaly flesh.

She _called_.

Her spirit answered.

Beneath her hands, in the depths of Irenicus' warped being, something stirred. Something bright and beautiful, sharp yet soft, and wildly elemental. She had the sense of fire and ice, water and snow, and the fresh, sweet scent of rain falling on leaves and roses, on the soft, unfurling petals. It was _her_.

Rain opened up her mind and drank in that light. It seeped into her fingers. Slowly at first, then rushing headlong, heat spread up her arms, making Rain feel as though she was flushing with sudden radiant colour. The Slayer's form howled and twisted, rippling under her hands. In a final starburst, Rain blasted it apart.

Glaring light filled the cavern. The Slayer dissolved beneath her. Falling, Rain twisted, rolling onto her back as soon as she hit the floor. She scrambled to her feet and spun, facing the very faint shadow-remnant that was Irenicus.

"You," he whispered, stunned. "How... How could you do this?" He stared at his fading hands, flickering in and out of being, his incorporeal form coming apart at the seams. "How could you defeat me?" Lifting his head again, he stared at her as though truly seeing her for the first time.

"Because you took what never belonged to you," she told him grimly. Raising her chin, she strode fearlessly up to him, meeting his cerulean eyes without flinching. His power over her was broken. "Because the soul wants what the soul wants. And now you are _nothing_."

Lifting both hands, Rain pushed him, hard. He stumbled backwards. Without taking her eyes from him, she beckoned to Imoen.

"Immy. Do you have any final words for our tormentor?"

"No." She gave a small bitter laugh and stalked closer, purposeful. "No final words. Just my blade."

And like that, she gripped her short-sword in both hands and angled it, driving it straight into Irenicus' black heart.

He screamed and dispersed, evaporating as easily as Sarevok had done.

It was over.

xxxx xxxx

In the aftermath of battle, they collapsed to the cavern floor together, the five of them huddling close and catching their breath. Imoen leaned heavily on Rain's arm. Jaheira laid her head on Rain's other shoulder and sighed deeply, for once not acting like a mother, but a tired, exhausted child. Aerie sat on Imoen's other side, her knees drawn up to her chest. She was badly injured. She shook in regular intervals, her tattered wings trailing forlornly over the floor.

And Kivan... He lay on his wounded back, his legs stretched out and his head resting in Rain's lap. She stroked his hair gently, trying to comfort him. He gazed up at her. There was a faint, wondering look on his pain-filled face.

"_Rosa_," he whispered. He lifted his hand, grimacing as his injured shoulder protested. Those beautiful, velvet colours leaked from the dreadful slash on his back. Stubbornly, he caught Rain's hair in his fingers and rubbed a lock between his thumb and forefinger. "Bright as a flame," he murmured. "Hot like the sun. Crimson and gold, scarlet and ruby; the most glorious of sunsets." He swallowed thickly, fighting back another wave of pain. "A fireburst," he breathed.

Frightened by his ramblings, by the glazed look in his eyes, Rain gently eased out from under him and allowed Jaheira to take her place. The druid cupped his head in her burnished auburn hands.

"You are terribly injured," Rain whispered, not sure if he was even listening to her. "We need to get you back to your body, right now. I don't think that even I can heal all of your hurts."

Rising unsteadily, she turned away and drew on her blood-given instinct, cutting a wide rift in the air with her forefingers. The portal blazed brightly and then subsided to a shimmering, star-studded darkness.

_The planes_.

Through that gateway, anything was possible.

Rain went to her knees and slid an arm under Kivan's shoulders, wincing as he groaned in delirious agony. Jaheira helped her hoist him up. Together, they led him to the portal. But Rain hesitated. Instinct told her sharp and clear that _she_ had to be the last one through the gate, unable to close it otherwise.

Imoen seemed to understand. Catching Rain's eye, she ducked her head under Kivan's trembling arm and slipped her hand around his narrow waist, supporting him. "Do not worry," she said softly. "We will look after him."

Rain nodded. Grateful, every part of her body stiff and aching, she moved in to Kivan and lightly traced the line of his face with her fingertips, from his high brow to his determined jaw. He muttered something under his breath.

"Kivan," she murmured. He shivered and tried to focus on her, dragging his glassy eyes to hers with painful difficulty. "Step through the gate, beloved. Reclaim your body. I will not be far behind."

She stepped back and watched as Jaheira and Imoen guided him through. Then there was only Aerie and herself.

"Rain?" Aerie's voice was soft and plaintive. She shuddered, torn feathers shaking free of her wings. Staring at the portal, she crossed her golden arms over her breasts and shivered, knowing what she faced. "What is my choice now?" she asked, turning her sky eyes on Rain. "If I am dead in our own reality, but am alive here, what will happen to me when I step through?"

Rain looked at her, a sharp twinge in her heart. "You have two choices," she said firmly, her mouth tasting dry and grainy, like sand. Her sire's instinct coursed through her soul.

"You can enter the portal," she said, "and let your spirit relax, hoping that Ellesime's priestesses will coax you back into your flesh. _Or_, you can hold onto your form and roam the planes, hoping that your spirit will survive the transition from my realm to whatever lies beyond."

Rain swallowed tightly. She lifted her hands to Aerie's shoulders and gazed at her intently, open and honest.

"I can't make you any promises," she told her softly, roughly. "I don't even know how far the power of this plane extends. But I will do anything you ask. _Anything_, my sister."

Aerie shivered, plainly struggling. She glanced at the portal again. "Haer'dalis travels the planes," she said wistfully. "But my wings are broken." She angled her head and stretched out one ragged wing, a wounded, broken bird. "They may never mend again."

"I can try to heal them."

"Truly?" Hope sparked in Aerie's eyes. "Can you really?"

"I can try," she repeated. Closing her eyes, Rain called up that white heat, coming very quickly and naturally now to her fingertips. She gently traced them along the line of Aerie's wings, repairing the threadbare feathers.

"Oh!" Aerie cried out, stumbling a little. She flapped back her glistening wings. They beat strongly, exquisite joy suffusing her delicate features. "You did it!" she cried. "You did it, Rain!" Happily, she lunged forward and kissed Rain's cheeks, very quickly. "I make my choice," she told her fiercely. "And freely. I choose the planes. I choose my wings. I know not what waits for me out there, but it is time for me to fly again."

Rain jerked her head in a shaky nod. With a strangled sob, Aerie embraced her tightly.

"Thank you, my sister," Aerie said, burrowing her face into Rain's hair. "I will never forget you. Perhaps we will meet in the planes once again."

Drawing back, Aerie gave her a wonderful, sweet smile, and then turned. She beat her wings and lifted from the ground. In an arc of silvery glory, she swept into the portal, glimmered and then was gone.

Rain was quite alone.

Wiping tears from her cheeks, she straightened her spine. "So," she said, speaking to her father's plane. "This is what you needed to teach me." She glanced around at the strange, eerie landscape, finally turning back to the portal. "Is this lesson now done? Am I free?"

She wasn't.

The plane sang to her; a slow, tantalising harmony that called to the fire in her blood, the power of Bhaal's realm. With a violent shiver, she acceded.

"Fine," she said sharply, her eyes flaring to furious gold. "Teach me. But then you let me go."


	9. Chapter 9

REFORGED

CHAPTER 9 – VIGIL 

Kivan opened his eyes, the lids strangely heavy. His body felt lethargic and over-used. With an effort, he blinked past his gritty vision and focused on the unfamiliar ceiling above him, his eyes tracing the pattern of serpentine spirals that been painted in glinting silver across the white-washed roof. The design was graceful and evocative; reassuringly elven. Sunlight danced across the dressed stone walls in golden motes, filtered through bright green leaves that swayed gently outside the high arching window. The angle of the rays was low. If he was not mistaken, it was early morning, the air sparkling with a fresh, dewy light.

_Early morning_.

He went very still against the pillows. Confused, he dragged up his recent memory, sorting through the chaotic events.

Their battle with Irenicus at the Tree of Life had been played out at sunset, the fires raging in both the sky and city. But what day was it now? How much time had he lost? Where was Rain?

"Rain?" he ventured, his voice coming out as a disused croak. Hope rose in his heart. Stiffly, he turned his head, seeking her.

Someone else answered. "Ah," murmured a voice in calm, musical elvish, a voice he had heard before. "You have finally awoken from your slumber. I wondered when you would return to us."

A woman stirred in an armchair by the corner. Lifting her head, she laid aside her small leather-bound book and untucked the legs that were folded beneath her, a look reminiscent of a child. But the slender foot that emerged from the hem of her flowing white robes belonged to that of a priestess. Demin stood and regarded him levelly with dark indigo eyes, the sunlight sheening the rich mahogany hair falling past her shoulders.

"Do you remember me?" she questioned, gliding to the bed. Her robes swished softly. Bending over him, she peered into his eyes intently and examined him with a healer's knowing art, then laid a practised hand on his brow. "Do you remember what befell you?"

Kivan swallowed thickly. "Yes," he managed. "I remember you, my lady."

He tried to rise, angling up on one elbow. But his breath hissed from him. Pain burned in his shoulder and back, running in a long jagged line beneath the surface of his skin, deep in his muscle. A mark of the brutal injury he had been dealt by the Slayer in Bhaal's plane.

Demin's eyes sharpened. "You are still injured, on the inside?" Seeing his barely perceptible nod, she murmured a healer prayer. A cool balm washed over him. "Is that better?"

He tried to lift himself again but failed, stifling a wince. "No," he ground out. "It is the same."

"I feared as such." Demin regarded him gravely. "The injury is to your spirit, brave one. Your physical wounds, as they were, have already been healed. Time is the greatest mender of all hurts. You will heal soon enough; I am sure of it."

Kivan's eyes narrowed a fraction. He disagreed with her assessment, but it would be rude to say so. _Deheriana_. Instead, he focused on Rain again.

"Where is she?" he grated, his voice still rusty. "Where is Rain?"

The priestess dropped her gaze from his. Turning aside, she reached for a gold-rimmed glass ewer on a nearby wash-stand and poured him a cup of water, bringing it to him. "Here," she said, offering it in her slender hands. "Drink this. It will aid in your recovery."

She was avoiding the subject.

Stubbornly, he refused the cup, determined to make her answer him. A dreadful knot of fear twisted in his gut. "Where is she?" he demanded again, a hard, desperate edge to his voice.

Demin sighed. "She lies in another room nearby," she told him carefully. "I can take you to her. But I must warn you, Kivan; she does not sleep, as you did. Nor as your other companions, Jaheira and Imoen, did. She lies as though dead. There is no breath in her lungs, no pulse in her wrist." Horrified, Kivan stared up at her, his heart clenching in unbearable grief. "But, in truth, she is not entirely dead either," Demin continued, looking puzzled. "Her body does not wither away. She seems to be..._waiting_, for want of a better word."

That was all the hope he needed. Gritting his teeth, Kivan struggled upright again, forcing himself to sit. The pain flared in his back and then smouldered sullenly. Trembling, he accepted the cup that Demin offered again, his hands shaking. Some of the water sloshed over the rim. Swallowing a curse, he brought the cup to his lips and sipped the water, the liquid soothing his raw throat.

The priestess arranged the pillows behind his back. "Is that more comfortable?"

"Yes." His voice was less hoarse. He handed the cup back and fixed her with a stare. "How long has it been? Since our battle with Irenicus?"

"A full night and day, and then another night." Kivan blanched. "You have been asleep a long time," Demin agreed. "Imoen and Jaheira woke during the night. They have already been to see Rain, and have returned to their beds again. Your battle with Joneleth took a great toll on all of you."

Grimly, Kivan gingerly swung his legs over the side of the bed, his back aching. The crisp linen sheets pooled in his lap. He darted a glance at the priestess, thankful that she had left him in his smallclothes, at least. "What of Aerie?" he asked, dreading the answer. "Were you able to return her to life?"

"No." Demin's voice was very soft. She gave him a sorrowing glance. "Alas, we were unable to restore her to life. We have begun the funeral rites." She hesitated, seeing the fresh grief in his face. "I am truly sorry that one of your company lost her life for us, for all of Suldanessellar. Know that my heart weeps with yours. I have sung her praises to Rillifane, that he might bring her back to rest in his tender arms."

For some reason, that angered him. "She should be released to the sky," he said harshly. "Free to soar, as she once did." He thought of her wings, so beautiful with their ivory and rose hues. And then Aerie huddling against the cavern wall after the Slayer's assault, her wings tattered and broken.

Demin gave him a sharp glance, disapproval in the thin line of her lips.

"Sorry," Kivan muttered, realising that must have sounded like a blasphemy to a woman who was only trying her best to heal them all, despite the rest of Suldanessellar's grave hurts. "Forgive me, my lady. It is just that...in the realm we were in, Aerie had her wings returned, if only for a short time. It seems a grievous cruelty to deny her that now."

"I understand." Her indigo eyes gentled. "I have spoken with Jaheira at length. She explained what passed in the...plane you were in." The way her voice caught on '_plane'_ made Kivan bristle. He remembered Jaheira's distaste at being in Bhaal's realm. It was reflected now in Demin's eyes, in what she was very careful not to mention.

That Rain was one of the Children.

He swallowed back a bitter retort. "Please," he said instead, urgent. "I need to see Rain now." He glanced around the room, searching for his clothes.

Demin moved away and opened a drawer, returning with a folded set of clothes. There was a light tunic dyed a soft, dusky grey, charcoal breeches, and a plaited leather belt. They were not his own but it didn't matter. "There are boots at the foot of the bed," she said, gesturing. "Do you need assistance?"

Kivan flickered her a wary glance. "No," he said shortly.

She turned her back respectfully and returned to the armchair, picking up the book and idly flicking through the pages. He dressed slowly, trying to ignore the sharp twinges in his back and shoulders. He fumbled with the laces at his breeches and boots, ran his fingers through his dishevelled hair, but there was nothing in sight that he could use to tie it back with.

"I am ready."

xxxx xxxx

Demin led him down a rounded corridor that overlooked a sunny atrium, a lovely fretworked balcony running the length of the first floor. The roof was high above, ending in a peak. Sunlight spilled through glass skylights cut into the stone. If his thoughts hadn't been so consumed with his dark fear for Rain, he would have appreciated the beauty more.

As it was, Kivan's heart began to thud painfully as Demin paused before a door and knocked lightly. Without waiting for an answer, she turned the handle and ushered him in.

He swept past her, his eyes instantly going to the bed by the window. The breath stopped in his throat.

_Oh, Rain_. She lay motionless beneath the cream coverlets, her eyes closed and her lashes dark against her porcelain skin. She was pale as marble. Her russet hair was spread over the pillow, as bright and beautiful as the sunset he had seen in her while she was in her father's plane, once her soul had been restored. She was dressed in a simple white shift. Her arms rested atop the covers, terribly still. There was no rise and fall of her breasts, no soft sound from her lips.

He sucked in a sharp breath, terror clawing at his throat. Demin had tried to prepare him for it, but the sight of her lying so deathly still made the blood freeze in his veins.

"Rain," he choked out, anguished. "Oh, beloved."

Stumbling forward, he found a chair by her bedside and sank onto it, belatedly realising that Rain was not alone. Anomen watched over her from a chair near the window. Their eyes met across the room. The knight regarded him very grimly, looking haggard and weary, his usually immaculate beard longer than he usually grew it, unkempt. Kivan dropped his eyes to the bed.

Gently, his fingers trembling, he picked up Rain's hand and pressed his lips to her cool skin, uncaring of the other man watching him. Her skin was soft and smooth, but so cold to the touch.

Not stiff and icy, as Deheriana's broken body had been when he had pulled her into his arms and wept into her blood-soaked neck.

Kivan began to shake, the old madness threatening him. Carefully, he turned Rain's wrist over, searching for the pulse that he knew she didn't have.

Nothing. No black blood coursing through her veins. No tainted shadows. _Nothing_.

Swallowing back a knot in his throat, he laid Rain's hand on the coverlet again, cupping her fingers in his. Then he slowly lifted his head to meet Anomen's eyes. Something fierce rose in him, intense and protective. "You have kept a vigil for her," he said in Common, his eyes burning into Anomen's. "Thank you."

Anomen met his gaze squarely. "Aye," he said. "As I would do for any dear friend." He paused and flickered a brooding glance at Demin as she examined Rain closely, laying a hand on her brow as she had earlier, with Kivan. She looked back at the priest.

"There has been no change?"

"No."

Demin sighed. "We will keep hoping," she murmured. She turned to Kivan. "Do not fear, yet. All is not lost. Her spirit may yet return to her body."

He didn't respond. With another tired sigh, the priestess withdrew, closing the door quietly behind her.

Kivan looked at Anomen again. "You still love her," he said bluntly, eyes arrowing in on his tight expression.

The knight flinched. There was a start of anger in his eyes, bitter and familiar, but then he swallowed tightly and lowered his gaze to Rain's beautiful face. "Aye," he admitted very softly. "But not as you do, I think."

That surprised him. Kivan stared at him, his brows flying up.

Anomen glanced at him sharply. His mouth twisted. "You do not deny it then," he observed, a little sourly. Kivan said nothing. Anomen sighed and pulled his chair closer to the bed, scraping the wooden legs over the sunlit stone. "Two nights ago," he said, "at the Tree of Life, Rain became the very thing that she swore she wouldn't, turning into some sort of beast. She melded with the Slayer somehow, her sire's murderous avatar. I recognised it in her. And you recognised it also, if I am not mistaken. You saw her for what she was."

Kivan gave him a terse nod. "Yes," he said quietly. He smoothed his thumb over Rain's hand, caressing her skin in warm circles. Hoping she would feel it in her father's realm and know that he was yearning for her. "I know what she was."

"You knew, yet you were not afraid. You stepped up and called her out of her murderous wrath, knowing full well that she might have turned on you."

"She nearly did." His voice was a scant whisper. He gazed at Rain's still face, tracing the sweet lines of her sharp-boned cheeks and rose lips. The shadowy veinings in her face were gone. "And you are wrong, Anomen. I was very afraid."

"If you say so." Anomen shrugged dismissively. "But something became very clear to me then," he said more quietly. "You loved her even in that dark form. I, it seems, cannot."

Kivan looked at him sharply.

Anomen let out a small, bitter laugh. "My heart shrank from her," he admitted, his honesty taking Kivan by surprise again. "My faith in her wavered. I am no coward," he added, his voice taking on a harsh note, "but in this, I was. I was afraid of her. And that makes me the lesser man for it." He bowed his dark head in defeat and was silent.

_Afraid_.

Kivan knew what it was like to feel fear when Rain looked at him with her soft eyes, with her small smile. But it was a different kind of fear. A fear that had been hovering over him for a long time now, he realised, even before his finding of her in Athkatla. "But I am not afraid anymore," he whispered, his gentle words meant for her ears.

If she could hear him.

He _needed_ her to hear him.

"So," Anomen said after a time, giving Kivan an inscrutable look. "Will you tell her when she wakes? Will you claim her?"

Ironically enough, the knight's words echoed Coran's. Kivan fixed him with a level look. "Yes."

Anomen sighed. "Very well, then."

There didn't seem much else to say after that. Silence fell. Kivan watched the morning sunlight dappling Rain's face, picking out the bright strands of copper in her sunset hair. He smiled at her faintly.

His companion stirred. "Jaheira said that while you were in your soul forms, you were made up of different colours." Anomen's expression turned slightly wistful. "Would you tell me what Rain looked like? I... I would have liked to have seen her."

Kivan let out a slow breath, seeing her again in his mind's eye. "Beautiful," he murmured. "At first, she was water and shadows, her hair a soft sapphire, rippling like the ocean. Then later, after her soul was returned, her hair blazed into the glorious colours of a sunset." He spoke on, hearing the aching tenderness in his voice, but there were some things he saved for himself only, not for Anomen's ears: the starlight in her, the glimmering silvers and blues that brightened only for him. "Did Jaheira tell you about Aerie's wings?"

Anomen smiled, soft and mournful. Grief darkened his brown eyes. "Tell me again," he whispered.

He did.

xxxx xxxx

A short time later, Anomen quietly said his farewells and slipped out the door, giving Kivan precious time alone with her. He drew in a shaky breath and slumped, wincing at the pain in his back. He leaned over her and rested his brow in the curve of her slender shoulder. Their hair mingled; dark sable on sunlit russet.

"Rain," he murmured. "Come back now, beloved. It is time for you to return to your body."

She lay as unmoving as before.

Wretched, Kivan turned his head to the side and pressed his cheek to her cool skin. He smoothed his hand down her forearm, wrist and fingers, his touch as warm and familiar as any lover's. A lover he may never have the chance to be. His heart twisted.

"Come back," he whispered again. "I need you, Rain. I need you with me."

There was no response.

He sighed and closed his eyes, heartsick. Pain and grief ebbed into every part of his tired body. "Why didn't I tell you in your father's plane? Why did I let you step through that gate without telling you the truth?"

That was something that not even he could answer. Oh, he had all the old excuses, but that didn't help him now.

Time passed, ever so slowly. The minutes crawled into hours. The sun's rays changed, leaving the room entirely. It was a glorious day outside the window, the trees basking in the warmth of the noonday sun. But it was wasted on him.

Demin came once, gazing at him with a furrowed brow. Worry was stark in her eyes. Other priestesses came also. One young woman brought a bowl of steaming broth and a goblet of watered wine. He thanked her dully and waited until she left the room.

Kivan tried the broth; he did. He knew his body needed it. The sharp pangs of hunger in his stomach were a timely reminder that he hadn't eaten in the better part of two days. But though the broth was hot and flavoursome, it choked in his throat. He took another spoonful and then set it aside. He drank the wine instead.

Later, in the afternoon, he heard a familiar girlish voice outside the door. _Imoen_. The door flew open and she raced to him, all wild pink hair and fierce eyes. She threw her arms around him where he sat by Rain's bed.

"Kivan!" she cried, hugging him tightly. He returned her embrace, if a little awkwardly. "It is good to see you! You were the most hurt, out of all of us. Apart from Aerie, I mean." Her voice stumbled to a stop.

Anomen closed the door behind them. "Will you go and see Aerie?" he asked Kivan quietly, moving around to the other side of the bed. "She lies in Rillifane's temple where the priestesses are preparing her." He hesitated. "There are many bodies to be cleansed. The city is in a state of deep mourning. The queen herself has been blessing the dead, trying to comfort their families."

Kivan sighed heavily. He knew he should go, but he didn't feel that he could leave Rain's side. "Not yet," he said, his voice dry in his throat. "I will go once Rain has awakened."

Imoen gave him a small, miserable glance. "Do you want me to sit with her? You look tired. You can try to get some rest, if you wish."

"_No_." It came out harsher than he had intended. Imoen started, and he sighed again, knowing she meant well. "But thank you for the offer," he amended.

Rising, he offered his chair to Imoen and paced the room, restless. He lifted his good arm and rubbed at his sore shoulder. Old scars, ridged and furrowed, met his probing fingers, but there was no evidence of his deeper hurts.

Imoen took charge of their sorry gathering and tried to engage them in light banter. She teased Anomen, gently, and regaled him with some of the exploits that she and Rain had supposedly gotten up to in Baldur's Gate after Sarevok's defeat. Knowing Rain as well as he did, Kivan was sure that her sister's tales were greatly exaggerated; in fact, some of them sounded downright ridiculous. But listening gave him something to do. Going to the window, he leaned back against the casement and folded his arms across his chest.

"That was the day I had to dye my hair pink," she confided to Anomen, her eyes sparkling with silent laughter. "I lost my bet with Jaheira. The duke's son _did _try to court Rain, but she refused all his romantic mush, even after..." Faltering, Imoen lifted her eyes to Kivan, guilty.

"After what?" he asked steadily, not looking away from her face.

Imoen sobered. "After you left," she finished quietly. The grave look in her eyes told him exactly what she meant.

He flinched. Closing his eyes, he swallowed tightly, his heart clenching. "After I left," he repeated, guilt twisting in his gut.

"But you came back."

He took a moment to answer. "Yes," he whispered. "Yes, I did."

The afternoon lengthened. Jaheira finally joined them, looking exhausted despite her rest. She took one look at Kivan and sighed. Seizing his shoulders in her hands, she met his eyes directly and gave him a small shake, despairing. "You look like you have one foot in the grave again," she informed him, not unkindly. "Have you learned nothing from your bitter trials?"

"On the contrary," he countered, very grimly. He returned her fierce stare. "I have learned a great deal about myself."

"But where will it get you now?" Jaheira shook her head wearily and released him. "Stubborn man."

_If anyone is as stubborn as a mule, then it is you, ranger_. Rain's lilting voice echoed in his mind. The memory of her huddling beneath her cloak flashed into his thoughts, and her small, warm smile; the smile that she only ever gave him.

"How long have you known?" he asked, hearing the tremor in his voice. The druid turned back to him, her brow raised in query. "About Rain," he tried to explain, "and me. That she... She..." He trailed off, convinced that he sounded like a fool. Which he was.

"That she loves you?" Jaheira asked very softly.

"Yes."

She sighed and glanced at the bed, at Rain's still face. "It is not for me to spill her innermost secrets," she said slowly, gazing at him again. "But perhaps this is for the best, since you have learned her feelings anyway. So you begin to understand."

Jaheira led him to the other side of the room, away from the others. "She was smitten the moment she met you," she admitted. "I knew right away. I warned her not to lose her head. But she surprised me." Jaheira gave him a small, sad smile. "She struggled on, trying to hide her feelings. She swore she would never tell you. And she listened to every word you ever said about Deheriana, knowing you needed to release your grief. That you needed your vengeance." Her voice softened. "She is a fighter, that one," she said, looking at Rain again with proud, gentle eyes. A mother's eyes. "She has had to be, to look after both herself and you. All the while knowing that her feelings would never be returned."

They were silent a moment, Kivan absorbing that painful truth. "Things have changed," he finally said, hoarse. He settled his gaze on Rain's beautiful, enduring face.

"Have they?"

He firmed his jaw. "Yes."

xxxx xxxx

Dusk brought a lilac blush to the leaves outside Rain's window. Kivan stared blankly, holding Rain's hand again. More priestesses entered, one moving lightly around the room to light the glass lamps, the others bringing trays of food. None of them had much appetite. Imoen picked at the platter of roasted meat. She handed a bowl to Anomen, adding a serving of greens, but Jaheira refused her offer. So did Kivan.

Their hope waned. The longer the hours dragged on, with no change, the harder it became to maintain their spirits. Kivan bowed his head. He tried to hold onto that spark, having a vague recollection of Rain's last words to him in her sire's plane.

_Step through the gate, beloved. Reclaim your body. I will not be far behind_.

"She said she would come back," he whispered brokenly, to no-one in particular.

Imoen stirred in the chair on Rain's other side. "She will," she said firmly, but neither Anomen nor Jaheira seconded her. Kivan closed his eyes against a fresh twist of pain and said no more.

The evening deepened. Slowly, the others retired, apologetic but needing their rest. Imoen offered again to take his place. Kivan shook his head mutely and watched as she finally slipped from the room, closing the door behind her. The lamps guttered and died. It must be well past midnight. He lifted Rain's hand to his lips and kissed each finger, feeling the calluses on her palm from her blade-hilts. It was strange how she could have such slender, delicate hands, but have the strength and scars of a warrior. Though it wasn't so different from him, he mused tiredly, looking down at his own scarred hand holding hers. They both had their scars. They both needed healing.

His thoughts were wandering. Weariness made him lower his head onto her arm again. "Come back?" he pleaded in a threadbare whisper. "Please?"

The moon rose outside her window. A bright crescent, it filled the dark room with a pure white light, radiant in Kivan's elven eyes. He followed the curves of Rain's moonlit skin, admiring how the silvered light fell across her face, the soft shadows it made in the indent of her lips and collarbone.

"You are so beautiful," he told her, lightly tracing her bottom lip with his thumb, feeling how soft her mouth was. He wondered what it would be like to taste her. "I will tell you, when you wake," he whispered. "I will tell you every day how lovely you are. I will tell you that you are my stars and moon, my night sky."

He would show her, too, just what it meant for him to fall in love. How he fell hard.

There was a light rap at the door. Lifting his head, wondering dazedly who would be calling by at this hour, he gathered himself to rise.

The door opened to reveal Queen Ellesime herself. She was dressed in a simple black gown with a tracing of ebony embroidery along her neckline, sleeves and hem; a mourning dress. Her shining, wheat-gold hair was plaited in long loops, a thin golden circlet on her brow. Seeing Kivan, she gave him a tired smile and dismissed her two guards, crossing the room to him.

"Your majesty." Trembling with exhaustion, Kivan slid from the chair and went to his knees, his head bowed in obeisance. "You honour me," he whispered.

Ellesime made a soft sound and laid one moonlit hand on his head. "Rise, Kivan of Shilmista," she said in her beautiful, golden voice, sounding like a bell in his head. "It is you who have done me the greatest honour; you and your companions." She helped him up herself, taking his hand in hers. "Sit, please."

Giving him another weary smile, she settled herself gracefully in the chair lately vacated by Imoen and gazed down at Rain's face, her exquisite features gentling. The queen seemed almost as tired as Kivan was. "I was about to retire for the evening, but I wanted to see her first," she told him softly. "I see there has been no change." She sighed. "A great pity. I owe everything to her, and to all of you. You saved my beloved people and city, and the sacred Tree of Life."

Ellesime folded her hands neatly in her lap and regarded Kivan very gravely.

"I will not stay long," she said quietly, "and I do not wish to overtax you. But I must know." Her voice hardened, taking on the commanding edge of a woman used to being obeyed. "Tell me of Joneleth," she said firmly. "Tell me what he did to Rain and Imoen, to these poor children. Tell me _everything_."

He did as commanded. Though the words caught in his throat, sharp and bitter, he told her the explicit truth, holding nothing back.

It wounded Ellesime to hear them. It wounded his heart to say it again, to describe the tortures that Irenicus had inflicted on Rain. How he had done what no elf should do to his kin and taken her innocence by force, scarring her spirit. The queen bowed her head and wept silently, taking Rain's small hand in hers. Silver tears streaked her cheeks.

At last it was all said and done. His words ran dry.

Ellesime drew in a long, shuddering breath and raised her head. "Thank you," she said, "for your honesty. I needed to hear the truth." She gave him a tiny, bitter smile. "To think that I once loved him. A man who could do all of _this_." She swept her hand in a gesture that encompassed both Rain and Suldanessellar. "Thank you," she said again, more quietly. "I will need to think on this. Perhaps I need to seek Rain's forgiveness, when she wakes."

Lifting her chin, the queen stood and came around to Kivan. He rose, his knees feeling weak. "You carry many hurts," Ellesime said softly. "There are deep wounds in your soul. Is there one that still cuts, when it is time to let go of that burden?" Her bright emerald eyes were too astute.

He stiffened. "There is," he finally admitted, feeling stripped and vulnerable beneath her searching gaze. "My wife," he said hoarsely. "I lost her. I was told by a seer in Spellhold that her spirit was destroyed, that she did not reach Arvanaith. Please, your majesty...can you tell me if it is true?"

Ellesime tilted her head to one side and regarded him shrewdly. "If I do this, will my answer change your obvious feelings for Rain, whatever the answer may be?"

For a moment, his heart seemed to stop. Feeling sick, he gazed down at Rain lying so still in her bed, as vulnerable here as he was. He felt guilty even asking this in her presence, unhearing or not.

Kivan struggled to find his voice. "No," he said softly. "No, it will not. I want peace, your majesty."

"Then let me see if I can grant it," she said gently. Taking both his hands, she closed her eyes and wrapped her bright, golden spirit around his. He shivered, feeling her tenderness as she explored the cuts in his soul, the broken bonds. "Deheriana," she breathed. "That was her name." She opened her eyes. They were grave but clear. "I am sorry," she said with quiet sincerity. "You were told the truth. Deheriana's soul is no more. She does not reside in the paradise that lies beyond this world."

He shuddered and would have fallen, had not Ellesime gripped his arm to steady him. "Easy there," she murmured. Gently, she lowered him to his chair and lightly kissed his brow. "Find your peace, Kivan of Shilmista. Carry your burden no more." And with those parting words, she withdrew, leaving him alone again.

xxxx xxxx

The shock of Ellesime's revelation sapped the remaining strength from his body. Utterly exhausted, Kivan awkwardly lay down on the bed beside Rain and slid an arm under her neck, embracing her. He didn't care what anyone would think if they found him.

"Rain," he whispered. "My heart." He closed his eyes and listened to the night wind rustling the leaves.

He slipped into reverie.

It was daylight, late in the afternoon. A golden day that drenched the forest in a sultry warmth. It should have touched his heart, but it did not.

He stole through the shadows, keeping to the deep gloom between the bright bars of sunlight, flickering from tree to tree. His bow was lifted; an arrow nocked. His hood was drawn forward to hide his face. Stealthily, he kept pace with the small band of newcomers who had foolishly dared to wander into these bandit-ridden woods, taking their measure.

There were four of them. Two half-elves; a man and woman. Bond-mates, judging from their intimate manner. A human girl, small and quick, with dark hair and poison-tipped darts in her belt. And an elf maiden, a young girl, with rich red-dark hair that shone like a flame in the sun. It glinted brightly; a beacon. She should cover it, or it would draw eyes far more unfriendly than his.

He listened to their murmured conversation. The half-elves talked of bandits and the Nashkel mine, very quietly. The human girl glanced around at the forest as though this were a grand adventure, all bright eyes and a quick, sunny smile. And the elf girl, she led the way down the forest path, her gaze flashing warily around the enclosing trees. She put one hand on the long knife at her belt, nervous but determined. She had the look of someone who was constantly looking over her shoulder.

Kivan's eyes narrowed. She _should_ be worried. These woods were no place for her.

Thinking to teach her a lesson, he shot ahead, light on his feet. He pressed his shoulder to a wide trunk at the edge of the path and let her come into range.

"Wait," she said, glancing about apprehensively. "Do you sense that? There is someone else here."

"Where?" The human girl searched the trees anxiously. "Probably more lousy bandits. We should be careful –"

Kivan didn't let her finish. Collecting himself, he whipped around the tree and onto the path in a flash of movement, pulling the bowstring back to his jaw. The steel tip of his barbed arrow pointed directly at the elven girl's face.

She gasped and flinched backwards, going white. Her hand clenched hard on her knife hilt. The human shrieked and reached for a dart, but Kivan swiftly put an end to any ideas she might have had of planting one in him.

"Drop your hand, girl," he said harshly in Common, glaring her down without lowering his bow from the other. She obeyed, ashen. Behind them, the half-elves edged protectively forward, sizing him up. Kivan shifted his gaze back to the elf. "Speak your business here, kinswoman," he snapped, "and quickly."

She swallowed but drew herself upright, trying to meet his gaze without wavering. Her eyes were the deep blue of the sea in sunlight, when the light shines on the moving waves. Not that he cared about such things. Not anymore.

"My name is Rain," she said evenly, answering in Common. Her voice was lilting and distinctly elven, but she had a human accent that sat strangely on her tongue. Very odd. "Formerly of Candlekeep," she added. _The library fortress_. "It is too long a tale to explain everything right now, but my companions and I hunt the bandits in these parts. They...might provide me with some answers."

That got his attention. "Answers to what?" he demanded.

Rain narrowed her eyes at him. She considered him a moment, obviously debating what to tell him. "To why someone is so desperate to end my life."

Kivan stared at her, taken aback. He glanced her over again. "You," he hissed, recognising her. "It is you in the bounties. Yes, you match the description."

She tightened her grip on her knife, her mouth thinning into a grim line. "Do you seek my head also, then?" Despite the arrow trained on her, she moved into a defensive position, though her knife remained in its sheath.

He gave a short, brittle laugh. It sounded harsh in his ears. "No," he told her with black amusement, finally lowering his bow. "Not at all. But if you, Rain of Candlekeep, have a bounty on your head, then I am interested to know why."

"As do we all." That was the half-elven woman, stepping forward to flank Rain's side. "And what of you?" she demanded, scrutinising him. "Do you accost every traveller in these woods?"

He snorted but didn't answer. Instead, he reached for the cord around his neck and pulled out his ranger's insignia; the falcon pendant. "I am Kivan of Shilmista," he told them swiftly. "I seek the same bandits as you. Perhaps our goals align, and we can be of assistance to one another." _Aid me. Aid me in avenging Deheriana_. "And if you want to know why," he said bitterly, pre-empting them, "as I am sure you will, then I will say this, and this only: Tazok, their leader, took the life of someone very dear to me."

_My sweet Deheriana_.

Rain gave him a grave, level look. He had the sudden sense that she was more worldy than he had first thought. That happened when you needed to grow up fast, when you were being hunted for your life.

"Shilmista," she said softly, sounding it on her tongue. "The forest of shadows." Lifting her chin, she stepped up to him, looking up into his hood. He stared back impassively. "Yes," she slowly said. "I am in agreement. Join with us then. Perhaps we will both find what we are looking for."

_Perhaps we will both find what we are looking for_.

Rain's voice whispered in his head. With that last memory, Kivan slowly drifted back to wakefulness. He tightened his arms around her warm body, listening to the very soft sound of her breath. She stirred a little, moving uncomfortably.

Her soft breath, her close warmth...

Gasping, Kivan came back to himself in a mad rush. "Rain!" he cried, scrambling up onto his elbow to look into her face, into her beautiful, _living_ face. "Oh, Rain, amael, you are back!"

Weakly, she shifted beneath him, her eyelashes fluttering in the pale grey light of pre-dawn. When she opened them, he saw they were a lovely shade of sea-blue again. He had never seen anything so wondrous.

"Kiv...? Kivan?" she whispered, her voice dry as autumn leaves.

"_Rain_." His heart cracked open. Before he could stop himself, there were tears in his eyes and he was crying, burying his face in her silken hair. His body shook with violent, joyous sobs. She lifted a hand and stroked his hair weakly, her arm trembling from the effort.

"It's alright," she murmured, turning her face towards him. "I am here now." Her voice broke. "Forgive me. I am sorry I stayed away so long."

"It doesn't matter." He said it fiercely and possessively, his tears wet on her skin. "You are here now, vanima. That's all that matters."

There was a noise outside the door. Abruptly, the door flung open and Demin raced in. Obviously fearing the worst, she stopped suddenly and stared, comprehension dawning. "She lives?" she breathed, full of wonder. "Oh, praise the Seldarine." Briskly, she clapped her hands to call her priestesses, tasking one of them with running for the others. "Wake them," she said urgently. "They will want to know right away."

One of the women tugged Kivan from the bed, though he resisted mightily, indignant. "I need to stay with her," he protested, gripping Rain's hand tightly.

"No, you do not." Demin didn't mince her words. "Enough now, Kivan. Rain needs sleep, _proper_ sleep, and so do you. You won't do her any good by being dead on your feet." She gestured sharply. "Say your goodbyes and go to your bed. _Now_."

He had the feeling that if he didn't, Demin would find a way to throw him over her shoulder and physically remove him from the room herself. He nearly laughed aloud at the thought. Holding Rain's eyes, he bent over her and gave her a slow, smouldering smile, the most sensual of promises. She smiled back, desire in her own.

"Sleep, alasse'amin," he told her tenderly. Seeing Demin's rapid approach, Kivan swiftly kissed her cheek and lifted his head. "I will see you when you have rested."


	10. Chapter 10

REFORGED

CHAPTER 10 – THE STARLIT NIGHT 

In the long hours that followed Rain's return to her own skin, she sank into a deep, exhausted slumber, her mind seeking nothing but the blank darkness of a healing sleep. She was utterly worn out. When she did drift back towards wakefulness, she was aware of an unusual heaviness in her limbs, her body weak and ungainly as she tried to roll onto her side or lift her head. Her heart beat beneath her breast: sometimes it was slow and steady, other times it was erratic and quick, her breaths short in her throat. During those spells, she was vaguely aware of the priestesses fussing over her, lifting her wrist to check her pulse and pressing their ears to her chest. Then her heart would slow again, her body trying to return to its natural rhythm.

Her moments of awareness were fitful. She heard Imoen, often, and Jaheira too. Anomen's courtly voice. And then there was Kivan, a warm, comforting presence that she always sensed when she surfaced towards wakefulness, even if her eyes remained closed. He was near, and it was good.

Once, her thoughts dim and hazy, she tried to wake properly when she floated free of a dream, aware in one corner of her mind that a long time had passed. She struggled with heavy lids and cracked open her eyes.

Kivan was dozing in a high-backed armchair woven in a soft blue brocade, pulled up close to her bed. His head rested against one of the wings. His sable hair was loose, glinting with a tantalising hint of red in the long streamer of morning sunlight that spilled through her window, the golden light illuminating the strong line of his nose and the sharp angles of his jaw. He was beautiful. At ease, the weary lines in his rugged face were softened, the sombre tension in him drained away. His dark, arched brows were relaxed.

Rain smiled, her mouth curving ever so slightly. Her heart swelled with love. "You are so beautiful," she whispered, her voice the faintest breath on her lips.

His hearing, as always, was acute. He roused immediately. Straightening in his chair, he gave her a look that was so soft, so smoky, that Rain's heart began to race all over again.

"I think that I am supposed to tell _you _that," he said, bending closer to her. "Which you are, vanima." The corners of his mouth rose in a quick, roguish smile, one that even Coran would have been proud of. He gave her a conspiratorial glance. "But I thank you anyway."

She laughed very softly, under her breath.

Kivan's smile gentled. "How are you feeling?" he asked tenderly, smoothing a wayward lock of hair from her eyes and brow.

Rain swallowed against a suddenly dry throat and frowned, trying to get a feel for her body. She felt strange in her skin; feeble and drained. She tried to rise but winced, the muscles in her arms and back protesting stiffly. "Very tired," she murmured drowsily. "And weak. Like my body doesn't entirely belong to me." She tried to find the right words to describe the sensation, but her mind was still clumsy with sleep. "Sorry," she muttered, her eyelids fluttering closed again.

"There is no need to be," he said softly. She sensed him moving, felt his lips brushing over her brow in a warm, lingering kiss. "It will take time for you to heal properly," he said quietly, drawing back. "Demin said it could take another day. Go back to sleep, cor'amin. I will be here."

Sighing, Rain slipped away into darkness again.

xxxx xxxx

Later, she became aware of a small scraping sound, rough and out of place in the otherwise peaceful stillness of the room. Rain's curiosity was piqued. She fought back the dreams dragging at her mind and opened her eyes to find Kivan sitting at a round table in the corner, working intently on a whittled bit of wood in his hands using a craftsman's knife and a set of fine chisels to carve out the rounded lines. There was a large pile of wood shavings on the table's glossy surface. Rain watched his adept, calloused hands as he carved, recognising the easy familiarity with which he moulded the smooth lines.

"What are you making?" she whispered, full of wonder.

Kivan smiled at her. "You will see," was all he said. He set down both his unfinished carving and a chisel and rose smoothly, coming to her.

She rolled onto her side with difficulty and rested her hands on her pillow, watching as he knelt by her bed. "I have never seen you carve before," she said, a trace of awe in her voice.

He tilted his head and regarded her warmly. "That's because it is not very often that I am idle. There are usually far more pressing things for me to do when we are on the road together, fighting for our survival."

_Together_. That nearly made her heart stop.

Kivan's smile changed, turning sweet and affectionate. "Watching you sleep is very nice," he told her fondly, "but it came to mind that I could also be using the time more effectively, to do something that I haven't done in a very long time." He dropped his gaze to her shoulder, where her skin was revealed by the sleeveless shift. "I seem to be doing a lot of things now that I haven't done in years," he murmured, still looking at her bare skin.

For a moment, Rain forgot to breathe. It didn't help when he reached out a hand and gently laid his fingers on her pulse, measuring the strength of the blood in her veins. Her pulse leaped, quick and fast. He stilled. Slowly, he lifted his jet eyes to hers and simply looked at her, a deep, dark flickering in their velvet depths. Rain's heart sped up, her pulse quickening.

Kivan slid his fingers from her wrist. "Would you like to try to sit up?" he asked attentively, rising.

She managed a tiny nod.

"Here," he said. Slipping an arm beneath her, he helped her up, bracing her spine while he piled more cushions behind her back. Then he eased her into them. Rain leaned against them weakly, feeling like an invalid though her strength seemed to be returning, albeit slowly. Kivan gave her a soft smile. "It is good to see you looking more hale," he said. "Do you think you can try some water?"

"I will try."

He reached for a cup of water on a stand by her bed and gave it to her, steadying her trembling, shaky hands with his own. She sipped at it. The water trickled down her throat, sweet and cool, but her stomach clenched when it reached her belly, unused to liquid or food. She gagged on it.

"Sorry," she apologised, grimacing. "Not yet." He took the cup back with gentle understanding. "How are the others?" she asked instead.

Kivan's expression sobered. "Well enough, _Rosa_. Imoen made me promise to fetch her when you awakened, so I will do that now, or she'll make my life miserable. You have a very determined sister."

Rain smiled. "So I do," she agreed.

"But Rain," he said more gravely, "there is something you need to know." He reached for her hand, grief in his dark eyes. "We lost Aerie," he told her thickly, a catch in his throat. "The priestesses were unable to draw her spirit back. Her body lay anointed in sweet oils for as long as Rillifane's priestesses dared allow, but we had no way of knowing when you would awaken." He squeezed her fingers gently, apologetic. "The funeral rites were performed yesterday while you slept. Many of our kin are dead, and the pyres have been burning long into the night." Kivan gazed at her with sharp sympathy, guilt written in his angular features. "I know how much you would have wanted to be there," he said softly, "to send her spirit soaring to Arvanaith. I am so sorry, Rain. I will take you to the waterfall where her ashes are scattered, so you can say your goodbyes."

She looked at him softly, her heart twisting in a knotted tangle of grief, remorse, and a strange contented happiness, even if she didn't know precisely what had befallen Aerie in the planes.

Her companions had suffered greatly while Rain slept, unaware of what had transpired in her planar realm: she needed to set things straight.

"It may not be as bad as you think," she said quietly, seeing Kivan's start of confusion. He frowned at her, dubious. "Aerie is roaming the planes," she told him, "with her beautiful, glorious wings intact. I was able to heal them for her. Out there," she continued, her blue eyes lightening, "in the misty worlds beyond our own, her spirit is as bright as it would be in Arvanaith, as real and tangible as your own soul was in my father's realm." Rain smiled and recounted what had happened, speaking of Aerie's firm but bittersweet choice. "I think her soul has flown free to greater things," she concluded. "She said that I might see her again some day. I hope that I do."

Kivan watched her silently, stunned. He bowed his dark head. "I do not know what to think of this," he admitted, sounding amazed. "Do you really believe that her spirit could hold its form beyond Bhaal's plane?"

Rain took a moment to reply so she could give him a completely honest answer, searching her intuition deeply. Her knowledge had grown considerably since her extended time in the plane; her sire's enormous power thrummed with simmering, hot fire in her blood.

"Yes," she finally said. There was flash of luminous gold behind her eyes, there and gone in an instant. "I do. And it gives me hope."

Kivan sighed heavily, the sorrow ebbing from him. "Then I will trust it is so." Closing his eyes briefly, he smiled faintly. "Fly high, Aerie," he urged. "Fly far and wide on your wondrous wings." He opened his eyes again and regarded her reverently. "_Rosa_," he said with quiet joy. "It seems you were able to give her wings back after all."

She leaned her head against the graceful ironwork of the bed-head and smiled at him. "So it seems," she agreed, her eyes shining.

After that, Kivan left the room briefly to call Imoen. Rain gazed out the window while she waited, taking comfort in the beauty of the leaves, in the fresh, lively growth of the newly-awakened tree limbs. The sky was flushed with a bright sunny light. Soon enough, Imoen skipped in, giving Rain a wide smile as she unceremoniously planted herself on the side of Rain's bed, making the mattress sink a little beneath her slight weight. Rain winced, her sister's inelegant squirming making her back hurt.

"'Bout time you got up, lazy bones," Imoen said cheerfully. "You've been asleep for nearly a decade. I was just beginning to think that _hey_, you would never wake up, when you finally did." She rolled her eyes dramatically and slumped back against Rain's pillows, sighing loudly. "Hey, shove over, little sis," she complained, nudging Rain's side with her elbow lightly. "You're hogging all the pillows."

"That's because I need them," she said dryly. She caught Kivan's eye briefly as he settled himself at the table again, picking up a chisel and his carving. He gave her a small indulgent smile. "And who are you calling little?" she retorted, falling back into the easy patterns of her sister's banter. "In case you have forgotten, Im, I am older than you are."

Imoen laughed at her. "But you're shorter," she shot back cheekily. She grinned and gleefully mussed Rain's hair. "So I win."

They passed a good hour together, Jaheira joining them upon learning that Rain had awakened. Demin came twice. The first time, she checked Rain over in a fastidious fashion and nodded satisfactorily. "You are healing well," the priestess told her, pleased. "Are you still tired?"

Rain nodded, weary again. "Very."

"That is not surprising. You will need to sleep again soon, so your body gets the rest it needs."

The second time, Demin tried her with some broth. "It may not sit well at first," she warned, reminding Rain of the water. "Start slowly." She handed the bowl to Jaheira and gestured. "See that she gets some into her," she urged, "and then leave her to rest."

This time, Rain was able to keep some of the liquid down, though barely. The effort drained the last of her strength. Lying down again, Rain turned her head and gazed with heavy-lidded eyes at Kivan where he lounged by the table in the afternoon warmth, the chisel forgotten in his hands. Their eyes met. He gave her a tiny smile in farewell and resumed carving again.

Rain closed her heavy eyes and slept.

xxxx xxxx

In the morning, Rain woke to a grey sky and rain dripping from the leaves, streaming down the branches. She lay on her side and gazed out the window. Feeling better for the long sleep, she gingerly rolled over, thinking to reach for the cup of water.

A small wooden falcon sat on the stand by her bed. Newly lacquered, its dark wings gleamed, folded at the bird's sides in exquisite detail. The feathers were carefully rendered, as was the hooked beak and the powerful talons, clenched around a branch. It was extraordinarily beautiful.

"Kivan," she whispered, joy in her heart. It was his ranger's sigil; his sign of protection, guarding her while she slept.

But of the man himself, there was no sign.

Later in the morning, when Rain was sitting by the window in the brocade chair, she questioned Jaheira about it. The small falcon lay in her lap. "Jaheira," she said quietly, worried, "do you know where Kivan is? I haven't seen him today."

Jaheira glanced at her in surprise. "He left the city," she said, "last night." She started in disbelief, frowning as Rain went very pale, the blood draining from her face. "He didn't tell you he was going?"

The misery in Rain's eyes was answer enough. "No," she whispered, feeling dizzy and sick. Clutching the falcon hard, she bowed her head, fighting to keep her composure. "Is he coming back?" she asked in a threadbare voice, dread knotting in her stomach.

The druid sighed. "Yes," she said gently, putting a comforting hand on Rain's shoulder. "He is coming back. He said he wouldn't be gone too long." She sighed again, though this time in exasperation. "Men," she muttered. "You have to light a fire under them to get them to do anything useful." She tilted her head to one side, regarding Rain carefully. "Did you two...talk yesterday?"

Rain stared at the falcon, wondering what she was supposed to think and feel. "Not much," she said softly, and then changed the subject.

A little later, Queen Ellesime came to visit her. The queen greeted Rain warmly as though they had known each other for years, kissing her familiarly on each cheek.

"You are looking well," Ellesime said, taking a seat opposite her. She gave Rain a beautiful serene smile. "Very well indeed. It makes my heart soar, knowing that you survived."

They talked a long time. At first, Ellesime told Rain about her people's efforts to heal both their kin and Suldanessellar, toiling hard to rebuild their homes. Irenicus had wrought great destruction. It was only later that she turned the conversation to him, gently reaching for Rain's hand with sorrow in her green eyes.

"I am so sorry," the queen whispered, full of regret. "I am so sorry for what Joneleth did to you."

And then Ellesime explained why Irenicus had done what he did. She gave the details in a measured voice, speaking of the terrible things that Elhan had refused to discuss. Listening, Rain remembered with unbearable sadness the failed clones floating in Irenicus' glass jars, and the beautiful room that had lain so untouched, so removed from the horrors of his dungeon. A woman's bedchamber. _Ellesime's_.

"You were in love with him," Rain breathed, turning ashen.

Ellesime sighed deeply. "Yes," she admitted softly. "I loved him once. Before he committed his first great sacrilege on the Tree of Life. Long ago, he was a man to be admired, though driven intensely by power and ambition."

Rain was silent a moment, absorbing the queen's words. "I saw nothing admirable in him," she finally said, her voice quiet but hard.

The queen drew in a trembling breath, her calm self-possession failing. "Forgive me," she whispered, looking deep into Rain's eyes with the sincere gravity of a woman who had shouldered many terrible burdens, and had accepted her failures. "Forgive me," she repeated more strongly. "I feel that I am responsible for what has happened to you, to both Imoen and yourself." Ellesime folded Rain's small hand in hers. "I ask for your forgiveness, Rain."

Strangely, beneath that lovely, sorrowing gaze, Rain felt the touch of grace, a peaceful certainty in her heart. She gave Ellesime a small sad smile. "You do not need my forgiveness, your majesty," she said softly. "Irenicus made his own choices. He, and he alone, is responsible for his actions."

The tension ebbed out of Ellesime's shoulders. Smiling gently, she rose and kissed Rain's brow. "I fear you are too good to me," she said ruefully, "and I thank you for it." She lifted her golden head. "There is to be a fete tonight," she told her, "in honour of your saving Suldanessellar and the Tree of Life. We have been steeped in mourning, but it is now time to remember precisely what we were all fighting to save. The Tree, our city; our very way of life." Ellesime's emerald eyes softened. "I understand that you are not fully recovered, Rain, and you may leave as early as you wish. But it would please me to have you there, so my people can properly express their thanks."

Rain stood slowly, her knees still weak. She caught the back of the chair for support. "I would be very pleased to attend," she said graciously, bowing her head.

Ellesime smiled at her. "I will send you one of my handmaidens to help you dress. Until this evening then, Rain."

xxxx xxxx

The queen was true to her word. In the afternoon, there was a knock at her door and a dark-haired woman entered, holding a gown of beautiful silk hued a very light, shimmering bronze. Rain's eyes strayed to it, admiring the colour.

"Ah," the woman said, offering Rain a warm smile, "you must be Rain. I am Aenya, handmaiden to the queen."

Aenya was deft and practised. Briskly, she helped Rain bathe and eyed her wet hair critically, fingering the long unruly ends. "You have not cut this in a while?" she observed, already reaching for a pair of fine scissors that she carried in a velvet pouch at her belt.

"No." Rain gave her a wry smile. "I haven't thought about my hair in a long time."

"Too busy fighting for your life," Aenya agreed, arming herself with the scissors. "Sit, then. We will just tidy this up."

When she was finished, she helped Rain into the gown. The silk was as soft as it looked, sliding like coppery water over Rain's skin. Aenya laced up the back and circled her slowly, making a few minor adjustments to the way the silk fell to the floor. It was a simple design, but stunning, with small sleeves that left her shoulders bare.

Aenya smiled in satisfaction. "Lovely," she said. "A gift from the queen." Reaching into her pouch again, she drew out a small wooden box and opened it, revealing delicate lengths of silver chain that were studded with tiny diamonds, glinting against the dark silk padding the box. It was an exquisite hairnet. Rain's breath stopped in her throat: it was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen. "This is for your hair," Aenya said. "I will pin it in place. Another gift," she added.

"From the queen?"

"No." Aenya gave her an enigmatic smile. "Not from the queen."

Rain's brow creased in puzzlement. "Then from who?"

Aenya wouldn't answer. Instead, she made Rain sit again and gently settled the fine loops of chain on her head, arranging the draping circles artfully so the diamonds sparkled in the shining length of her hair. She handed Rain a small mirror so she could see the effect.

"There," she finally said, satisfied. "Beautiful. Now, you just need the slippers," she added, nodding at the silken bronze shoes, "and some scent." Aenya dabbed a soft, lingering fragrance on Rain's throat and wrists, reminding her of joyous wildflowers, blooming in bright spring meadows. It was lovely.

Aenya stepped back to admire her handiwork. "You are ready to go forth," she said, smiling again. "Shall we?"

xxxx xxxx

The fete was held in a splendid hall that was carved to resemble a forest, living trees raising the height of the vaulting roof. Scores of coloured lanterns hung from the branches and rafters, swaying gently in the light breeze that filtered in through the open doors. The rain had passed, the sky had cleared, and stars glittered above the graceful platforms bordering the hall, looking out over the forest. Pipes fluted and a harp sang. The musicians wove lovely, silvery notes in a rippling tapestry that delighted Rain's elven ears.

She sat near Queen Ellesime, a crowd of ever-changing well-wishers moving around her. She drank the sweet wine and smiled fondly, watching Imoen shamelessly flirting with the handsome, unattached men. Jaheira was there in gleaming gold satin, mingling with the crowd, and Anomen too, dressed in courtly finery. He met her gaze across the hall and smiled contentedly. The music played, the lantern-light was soft, and Rain should have been spilling over with joy and happiness.

She was not.

It was whilst she was speaking with Elhan, having just accepted what amounted to a sober apology, that she first sensed the intensity of another's eyes on her, a newcomer to the crowd. She went very still. Her heart quickening, she glanced towards the main entrance, searching.

Kivan stood on the threshold, looking right at her. People passed between them, allowing her only brief flickers of sight. She drew in a quick breath. He was wearing a loose white shirt tucked into brown breeches, rich leather boots rising to his knees. His glossy hair was loose, just as she had last seen him, but he, too, had recently tended it, neatly trimming the ends. The black curls tumbled to his shoulders. There was no cloak to swathe him, no hood to hide his expression. Only his black velvet eyes drinking in her appearance, gazing at her in naked awe.

Rain began to tremble. Grateful that she was already sitting down, she stammered out an apology to the captain for losing attention and looked back to the doorway.

Kivan was gone.

Completely distracted, she scanned the sea of faces, trying to see where he had slipped off too. But he was smooth and fluid, quick on his feet. She couldn't see him anywhere. Weakly, she lifted the goblet to her lips and drank a long, steadying swallow of elven wine, feeling the intoxicating warmth of it flushing her face.

"This is beginning to become a habit of yours," breathed his voice in her ear, soft and smoky and very, very close. His mouth brushed the tip of her ear, deliberate. Rain shivered violently. "Saving cities," he continued in that same softly-sensual voice, suggestively pressing his lips to her lobe, "averting wars, and then I have to come and rescue you from your throngs of admirers."

Rain sat utterly still, shivering with pleasure as he moved behind her and pressed his mouth to her other ear. It was a kiss this time; she had no doubt about it.

"Shall I rescue you now?" he asked, a hint of a smile in his voice.

She set her wine down hard, her hand shaking. "_Yes_."

He took her hand and wove through the crowd, heading for the door. She couldn't stop looking at him. Fearing she might faint from sheer, trembling joy, she pressed closer to him, nearly stumbling when he turned that beautiful, smouldering smile on her. Desire flared in her, hot and quick. Silently, Rain chastised herself.

_By the Seldarine, he is turning me mindless_.

Outside, the air was pleasantly cool, the sweet scent of rainwater rising from the puddles on the stone. Kivan led her to the railing and leaned against it, watching her through half-slitted, glittering eyes.

Rain tried to think of something to say. "Where have you been?" she asked quietly, hearing how small and vulnerable her voice sounded.

Kivan's expression softened, guilt in his gaze. "Out in the forest," he said softly. "Walking between the trees." He lifted a gentle hand to her cheek in silent apology. "I am sorry," he murmured. "I did not mean to worry you. I just needed some time...time to relearn certain things about myself, things that I had forgotten."

She looked down at the forest, her mood suddenly grave. The leaves danced in the wind. "Did you rediscover those things?"

"Yes."

It was only a single word, said very softly, but it poured love through Rain's heart, making her feel as though she were being swept out to sea. The music in the hall changed. It slowed, taking on a haunting, drifting cadence.

"Dance with me," he whispered.

Rain glanced at him swiftly. Kivan's eyes were intent on her face, his mouth soft with desire. He reached for her, slowly, and took her bare shoulders in his hands, guiding her to him.

"I don't know the steps," she admitted, breathing quickly as his hands slid down the length of her spine, settling on the small of her back. His touch burned through the bronze silk.

He smiled at her tenderly. "Then we'll make them up."

Drawing her close, he rested his head against hers and began to sway gently, moving her with him. He brushed his mouth over her hair. He kissed the diamonds lightly, tracing their pattern, and pulled her closer.

"Beautiful," he breathed. "There are stars in your hair." She felt him smile against her head. "Stars in your hair, and stars in your eyes. Just as I imagined you would look."

Rain looked up at him in surprise. "This came from you?" she asked faintly, wonder in her voice.

"Of course, elen'amin." He gave her a small, teasing smile. "Or did you think it came from some other admirer?" He drew her even closer until they were nearly one flesh, her body pressed firmly to his.

She laughed breathily, clenching her fingers in the white linen of his shirt. "How mysterious you are," she whispered back. "This arrives, and you weren't even in the city. You are a man of considerable talents."

"Indeed." Kivan began to massage her lower back in small, familiar circles, making Rain seriously fear that her knees were about to give way. She leaned into him weakly. He spun them both in a slow, graceful circle, his arms tightening around her. "Listen to the music, Rain," he murmured in her ear. "Listen to the night wind in the leaves. Listen."

She did so. Hardly daring to breathe, she came to a stop as he ceased their gentle swaying, a sudden expectant stillness coming over them both. His body trembled against hers.

"Rain?" he whispered, sweetly lifting her chin with his finger. She looked up at him, her lips parting in a soft intake of breath. "I love you."

Joy took her, wild and delirious. His mouth came down on hers. Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her for a long, long while, his lips soft and seeking at first, but then becoming more insistent, branding her with his urgency. Rain sighed against his mouth. She forgot everything as his lips learned hers, bringing an intense, fiery passion to their embrace that she had never thought possible. Kivan deepened their kiss hungrily, slipping his hands behind her neck.

Rain clutched at his shoulders desperately. Making a plaintive, pleading sound, she shook like the leaves as he finally drew back and kissed her cheek feverishly, then the curve of her pointed ear, the soft line of her throat. "I love you, Rain," he said fiercely, his lips hot on her skin. "_I love you_."

Dazed, Rain clung to him. His mouth moved to her shoulder. He seemed to come back to himself then, glancing around quickly at the folk coming and going from the hall, cradling her tightly against him.

"Come with me," he said very softly, taking her hand again.

He led her away into the starlit night. Along Suldanessellar's high platforms he took her, his feet moving in silent, unswerving purpose. The music faded. The trees rustled around them, darkness closing in. Rain glanced at him, soft and wondering.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"You will see," he whispered. "We are nearly there."

At the foot of a lovely, spiralling staircase, Kivan stopped. He tipped his head back to look up at a small treehouse nestled high above the city, held in a massive tree's wide limbs. He smiled at her faintly and gestured for her to precede him. Rain climbed the stairs with none of her usual agility, still weakened from both her passage back from death and the wonderful, steadying touch of his hand on her spine. At the top she paused, gripping the handrails tightly.

Kivan lifted his ranger's cord over his neck and took the key that now swung beside the falcon pendant, fitting it to the lock. The latch clicked. He stilled, giving her a soft, warm look that was as quietly awed as it was nervous. "Are you ready?" he asked her, pushing open the door.

Rain nodded and stepped inside the room. She gasped.

_So beautiful_. A gorgeous, candlelit room opened around her, the tiny flickering lights glowing on a narrow shelf running the length of the wooden walls. More candles twinkled atop a polished table set before the treehouse's only window. There was a wide window seat upholstered in cream, softened by cushions in silver and blue velvet. A jug of amber wine stood on the table, together with two glasses and a wooden board holding a loaf of fresh bread, a carving knife beside it. White bowls reflected the candlelight, their lids still fitted. And in one corner, the bed awaited, the same cushions arrayed on the pale coverlet.

Rain began to tremble all over again. "What is this place?" she breathed, stunned.

Kivan closed the door and put his arm around her waist, pulling her close. "A star bower," he whispered, nuzzling at her neck. "See the glass roof? It lets the starlight in, silver and beautiful." He glanced up at the glass ceiling where the stars shone high above them, glinting with luminous silver fire on the moving leaves. "A place for new lovers," he added, his voice turning husky.

Anxiously, he faced her, gazing down into her starlit face very earnestly. "Rain," he said softly, "I love you more than you can ever know. I am so sorry that it took me this long to tell you." He took both of her hands in his. "All of this," he said, "belongs to you and I. To us. And I," he said, beginning to tremble, "belong to you, Rain. All of me."

Glad tears sprang to her eyes. Slipping her arms around him, she buried her face in his shoulder and hugged him tightly, her tears wetting the crisp linen of his shirt. Kivan murmured soothingly and stroked her hair, then led her to the window seat. She sank onto it gratefully, the silk of her dress whispering against the cushions.

"I must confess, I wasn't expecting quite _that_ reaction," he admitted a little apprehensively, going to his knees before her so he could search her eyes. "Is it too soon, amael? Have I rushed things too much?"

"No." She shook her head very firmly, wanting to be clear about this. "You have not."

He smiled at her in warm, sensual wonder, relaxing. "I am glad," he whispered, rising to take her mouth again. He kissed her with the same heated ardour of earlier, his lips and tongue honeyed and feverish, seizing her mouth, drifting down her neck. Rain threaded her fingers in his sable hair and drank him in.

That first time, their lovemaking came swiftly and beautifully. Kivan poured the wine and offered it to her in silent reverence, the wine sweet on his tongue. He kissed her, slow and deep, without restraint. His fingers pulled at the laces of her gown. Gently, he slipped the bronze silk from her shoulders and watched it pool in her lap, breathing raggedly as her skin was bared to his avid, hungry eyes.

"_Vanima_," he whispered with heartfelt desire, pressing close to her. He kissed the first of the many livid scars that marked her body, starting with the jagged cut over her left breast. "You have enchanted me, amael. I am lost."

So many kisses followed, his lips moving over the expanse of her skin. Longing raged in her. Reaching for his shirt, Rain tugged at it impatiently and kissed him, hard and demanding. Kivan growled low in his throat and nipped at her neck, smiling a very male, very satisfied smile as she moaned softly. He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed. She looked up at him, soft and waiting, her hair cascading over the pillow.

Saying nothing, his candlelit eyes telling her everything she needed to know, he unlaced his breeches, naked sensuality in the softness of his mouth, in the mellowness of his gaze. He lowered himself to the bed and moved over her, taking his weight on his arms. Then he kissed her thoroughly, scalding and urgent.

"Now?" he breathed. He pressed her hand to his scarred chest, where his heart thudded beneath her splayed fingers.

"Now," she agreed, twining her arms around his neck. She shivered with pleasure as he nudged her bare thighs apart.

He clasped her to him tightly and shuddered, his eyes holding hers as he entered her slowly. She cried out, digging her nails into the back of his shoulders.

"Oh, Rain," he choked out, his face suffused with an intense, almost painful pleasure. "Amael. I love you. I love you."

And then there were no more words. Just him, moving inside her, his laboured breath warm on her face, his mouth moulding hers. And the deepening night, the starry darkness, and the wind singing in the leaves.


	11. Chapter 11

REFORGED

CHAPTER 11 – AFTERGLOW 

Sometime in the grey morning, Rain woke to a sudden flurry of rain on the glass ceiling of the treehouse, the loud staccato of the singing water pulling her from her very pleasant, very contented slumber. The ivory sheets were silken against her bare skin, the brocade coverlet warm around her. And Kivan, wonderful Kivan… The breadth of his scarred chest was pressed closely to her back, the magnificent length of him stretched out beside her. One hand lightly cupped her hip. She had the sense that he had been waiting patiently for her to awaken, taking a simple, uncomplicated ease in their newfound intimacy. She smiled sleepily and stirred, arching her spine into him.

He made a low, satisfied sound in his throat and shifted closer, slipping his arms around her. "Good morning, beautiful," he murmured, lifting his head so he could mouth at her ear.

Rain opened her eyes and stretched languidly, turning her head a little as his mouth drifted from her ear to her neck. He brushed aside her tousled hair and feathered soft kisses down her throat. "Good morning yourself," she whispered back, trying to stifle an involuntary shiver of pleasure. Kivan knew though; she felt him smile against her skin. "Have you been awake long?"

"A little while." Moving closer, he rose onto one elbow to gain access to the curve between her neck and shoulder, his lips warm and languorous. Rain murmured her pleasure softly. Reaching up a hand, she smoothed her palm down his muscled arm, wiry and strong from drawing back his great bow. In response, he grazed her shoulder lightly with his teeth.

"I have been enjoying watching you sleep," he admitted, "just as I did when I was waiting for you to recover." His tone turned wistful. "Did you know that you have the softest, most sweet expression on your face when you are lying in my arms, amael? I do believe that you belong in my bed," he added huskily.

Rain drew in a sharp breath. Her heart swelled with love and happiness. Turning in the warm circle of his arms, she smiled at him, the covers pulling snugly around her. Kivan gazed back at her very warmly, a tender, amorous light in his smoky eyes.

"I like _being_ in your bed," she said, her smile turning sultry. Gently, she stroked back a thick, dark curl that had fallen over his brow, and then framed his dear, rugged face in her hands. Her smile softened. "I like being with _you_," she whispered, bringing her mouth tantalisingly close to his.

Kivan made a strangled sound and reached for her. His lips sought hers. Slowly, gently, he plied her mouth with his lips and tongue, pulling at her soft bottom lip, teasing her lips apart. He slipped his tongue into her mouth. Rain responded greedily. Somewhere in the sensual haze of her drowsy mind, she marvelled at how his mouth, so-often set in a hard serious line, could be so firm yet yielding against hers. His body was hard and close. She whimpered as he pulled her tighter, possessively deepening their kiss until she didn't know where she began and he ended. Eagerly, he increased the pressure of his mouth. His ardour was growing; he slid both calloused hands down to her lower back and cradled her firmly to him.

"_Rosa_." With considerable effort, he broke off their scalding kiss and leaned his brow against hers, catching his breath. "Oh, Rain," he ground out, his voice thick with passion and longing. "Amael. You undo me. You are a firebrand, my love. Just touching you scorches me alive."

She smiled fondly. "Are you complaining?" she teased lightly, sliding her fingers through his hair and tugging at an unruly lock.

"Not at all." Kivan's answering smile was heated but determined. He drew back so he could look into her eyes. "This morning," he informed her sensually, his dark gaze rich with want and need, "I am going to have you slowly and thoroughly, without haste. Soon enough, we will be back on the road again. I intend to use this time _very_ wisely, so I can learn every part of you, amael."

That made desire coil molten in her belly. "_Oh_," she breathed, her eyes shining. "Is there no way that I can change your mind?" she asked mischievously.

Lifting herself up, she leaned over him so that her small breasts dangled enticingly. She took his pointed, graceful ear in her teeth and tugged gently, using the very tip of her tongue to plant small, biting kisses along its curve. Repaying him for all the exquisite tortures that he had inflicted on her last night.

Kivan groaned and locked his arms around her. "_Rain_," he grated, almost painfully. "Oh, cor'amin. You have no idea what you are doing to me."

Actually, Rain thought she did. She grinned down at him wickedly. "Have I begun to change your mind?" she teased.

He chuckled in blissful, carnal delight. His jet eyes were very intent on hers: love, stark and wondrous, shone clear in his open, unguarded expression. Looking down at him, Rain thought he had never been so splendid. The dusky shadows cast by the lowering, purpling storm clouds laid a soft film over his sharply-angled face, the drifting half-light bathing their rumpled bed. His sable hair tumbled across the pillows. The rain sheeted down outside the treehouse, enveloping their cosy lover's bower in a dim haze.

Kivan returned her sly look with a wolfish grin of his own. "At times," he drawled, "I am a very patient man." Deliberately, he clenched his roughened fingertips in her buttocks, hard. She gasped and arched her head back. "But I can also be quick to take what I want." He grazed his teeth along her throat. "Keep it up, my beguiling nymph, and you will find out just how quick I can be."

She laughed breathlessly, rolling onto her back as he pulled her down with him. "Sounds promising," she said. Her merry laughter rang out even louder as he playfully tickled her in the ribs. "Alright, alright!" she cried, fending off his merciless hand.

Laughing softly, he settled her in the crook of his arm and pillowed her head on his shoulder. She smiled and laid her hand on the hard plane of his chest.

"Look up at the sky," he said dreamily. "Last night, there was only you and me, and the countless stars above. Today, the rejuvenating storm comes, and the sweet rains fall."

She looked, seeing how the rainwater pooled on the thick glass, creating a watery window onto the wide, storm-lit heavens. The wind rose, howling around the treehouse. Above the roof, the leaves on the tree's highest branches rippled like emerald banners in the wind, ever moving. It reminded her of the deep forest she had glimpsed in Kivan's otherworldly soul.

He angled his face to hers. "It is fitting," he said more softly, perhaps thinking along the same lines as she was. "When we were first in your father's realm, you were glistening water and starlight, Rain; iridescent silvers and blues that glowed in my eyes, so very brightly. You were my evening star." He smiled at her gently. "You are even more beautiful now." Leaning closer, he pressed a sweet kiss to her brow, warming her. When he drew back, there was a question in his eyes. "But how do you feel now?" he asked carefully. "How do you feel now that your soul has been restored?"

Rain mused over it thoughtfully. "I feel...much like my old self again," she said slowly, "but different. More. More, but also less." She stared up absently at the heavy storm clouds, a reflected shadow in her grave eyes. "I have changed, Kivan," she admitted softly, being honest with him. "Before my soul was taken, I knew I was a daughter of Bhaal, but I didn't truly understand what that meant." Her eyes darkened. "It would have been nice if it had stayed that way," she said sardonically, "but I can't change that now."

Frowning, she turned onto her side so she could read his expression. He studied her pensively, still and quiet. Letting her speak.

"It is as though I am a new blade, swift and whole, but one that was once broken. Like the Equalizer." She thought of that day in Cromwell's smithy, when she had wondered if the newly-reforged sword would bring balance back to her tattered spirit. "My soul was torn apart, leaving me fragmented and dulled. Disconnected." Painfully, she remembered how easily she had partnered with the Slayer at the Tree of Life, how they had become a single, shared entity in their vengeful pursuit of her nemesis.

_Then_, she had not been disconnected. _Then_, she had been a dark, murderous whole.

"But I was remade," she said softly. "I learned things in my father's plane that I would never have learned otherwise." There was the starfire, singing in her fingertips; her acceptance of both the brightest and the darkest parts of her inner self, her acknowledgment of all that she was as she stepped through that tarnished mirror. "I am whole again," she concluded, "but not precisely the same as I was before. Fundamental parts of me have changed." She gave him sad smile. "It may take me a while to discover just what those parts are."

Kivan sighed and put his arms around her, drawing her close. "We can do that together," he said gently. "You are not alone in this." He gave her a small smile that did not quite reach his eyes. "We have time now," he whispered, rough and heartfelt. "Time for me to make things right."

Tensing, he looked into her eyes fearfully, a new, stricken guilt in his brooding expression. Rain froze, wondering what was coming.

"Rain?" he began hesitantly. "Amael?" There was a flash of grief in his vulnerable face. "Can you ever forgive me for what I said to you before our battle with Irenicus, before the Tree of Life? When the soldier died," he clarified, seeing the tiny knot of confusion in her brow. "When I accused you of being…less than elven. Of being cold-hearted." He swallowed bitterly, full of self-recrimination. "I am so sorry," he said thickly, tightening his arms around her. "Please _Rosa_, say you will forgive me."

Rain closed her eyes against sudden heartache, heartache for _him_. She thought she understood. It wasn't just the words themselves that burdened him, the terrible hurt it had dealt her, but also what it had prompted her to become. And then how everything had gone so wrong between them at the palace fountain.

She stroked his curls soothingly. "Shh," she murmured, very gently. "I have already forgiven you. Please, my heart, do not carry this burden any longer. Let it go."

Kivan sighed, very deeply. He rested his brow on hers once more. Slowly, he relaxed, the tension ebbing out of him. "Thank you," he whispered.

Looking at her very seriously, he lifted himself onto his elbow and regarded her, quiet awe and gratitude in his eyes.

"I adore you," he told her gravely. He brushed a lock of bright hair from her cheek, giving her a small, tender smile that curled the corners of his mouth. Rain lifted a hand to his planed face and returned his smile. "My heart is full of love for you, Rain. And I am _so_ very glad that I have been given a second chance to tell you that."

"So am I," she murmured, curling her fingers against his cheek.

He took her hand and kissed each fingertip. Then he laced his fingers through hers.

"I have missed you," he said quietly. "I hadn't realised just how much I had come to rely on your warm and generous spirit, on your selfless kindness, until your soul was stolen away." He gave her another grave, intent look. "I missed _you_, Rain." Tilting his head a little, he gazed down at her, clearly pondering something. "Do you trust me, beloved?"

She looked at him questioningly. "Of course."

"Then let me welcome you back." He closed his eyes in concentration. Slowly, with refined skill, he brushed his elven spirit against hers very carefully, with the exquisite gentleness of a butterfly's touch. Rain's breath caught. She became aware of his almost-painful love and joy, his desire and happiness. His vast contentment. Then he withdrew his spirit from hers very gently, opening his dark, glistening eyes. Rain blinked back sudden tears.

"_Kivan_," she whispered, choked with emotion. Fiercely, she twined her arms around his neck and dragged him down to her.

They lay quietly for a time, entangled in one another's arms, basking in the sheer warmth and beauty of each other. Kivan smiled at her tenderly and kissed away her tears. "I love you, Rain," he said softly. "All of you."

xxxx xxxx

A little later, Rain sighed with pleasure as Kivan began to show her just what he had in mind for the rest of the morning. She stroked her fingers down his strong back. She encountered one of the raised welts that cut down his shoulder-blade and explored it gently, running her fingertip along its long, scarred length.

He winced. It was nearly imperceptible, but Rain was very astute. She stilled.

Kivan sighed and lifted his head from her breast. "I love your scars," he said quietly. "They tell the story of your life. Of your struggles." Tenderly, he kissed a livid line that ran just beneath her collarbone, one of the marks left from Irenicus' horrific tortures. Rain gave him a weak smile.

"I am glad one of us does," she said faintly. She swallowed thickly, the fears that had plagued her since Irenicus' dungeon rising to the surface. "I was afraid that you might not find me pleasing," she said, the admission painful. "I am not nearly as pristine as I once was."

He met her eyes soberly. "Your scars are beautiful," he told her, utterly sincere. "_You_ are beautiful. And your body pleases me immensely, vanima."

She wondered why he seemed so reluctant about his own. He hadn't seemed to mind when she had touched the many scars on his chest, but this welt on his back seemed different. In hindsight, she realised that she had never seen his back fully exposed, only tiny snatched glimpses as he pulled his tunic over his head. Even then, his back had been turned away. In the close confines of the camp, when their party quickly had to become familiar with one another, this seemed unusual.

"Why do you not like me touching the scars on your back?" she asked softly, hesitant.

Kivan stiffened. He laid his head on her abdomen and was silent, going very still. Rain could feel a terrible tension simmering in hm.

She felt awful. "You don't have to say anything," she said gently, guilt twisting in her heart. "There is time, yet, for us to get to know one another fully. Forgive me, beloved."

He sighed heavily. When he lifted his head to look at her, there was a tortured expression on his face. Fear and guilt, pain and suffering. _Anguish_.

Rain blanched. Stricken, she dropped her hand from his curls, her guilt cutting her very, very deeply. "I am so sorry," she said miserably. "That was thoughtless of me. It was not my intention to hurt you."

"I know." He said it very quietly, his expression softening. "You have done nothing wrong, Rain." He searched her eyes a moment, pensive, and then seemed to reach a decision. "No," he said softly, speaking his thoughts aloud. "I will not hide from you, amael."

Carefully, he rose, the covers slipping from them both. He edged to the side of the bed and swung his legs over the mattress. And then he went very still, rigid with tension as he let her look at him.

Old, savage welts crisscrossed his back. Raised and puckered, they ran in long diagonal lines, scarring most of the surface of his shoulder-blades and back. Rain drew in a sharp breath; it looked as though he had once been flogged.

"Kivan," she whispered, horrified. Her heart going out to him, she knelt behind him and pressed her body to his, slipping her arms around his neck. She kissed his cheek gently and rested her chin on his shoulder. "Heart of my heart, do not be afraid," she murmured, feeling his sudden trembling. He folded his arms over hers, embracing her tightly. "This terrible thing that has happened to you is _part_ of you. And I love every part of you, beloved. Please," she whispered, "do not be afraid."

He was quiet a moment, letting her comfort him. When at last he spoke, his voice was thick with remembered pain. "When Tazok captured Deheriana and I, they took the lash to me." He shuddered. "After I lost her, I used the lash on myself."

For a moment, Rain was utterly silent, horror and grief gripping her heart. She frantically searched for the right thing to say, the right thing to try to comfort him, so that he would know she understood. Then she realised that any poor words she could come up with would be woefully inadequate. So instead, she disentangled her arms from his, slipped off the bed, and settled herself sideways in his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and simply held him, laying her head on his warm shoulder.

Kivan's arms closed around her. He was still trembling, long involuntary shudders that racked his body. He gathered her closer and bowed his head.

"Rain," he whispered, his voice shaking. "Heal me. _Heal me_."

She shivered in response, her heart aching with a very pure love. In quiet self-assurance, she drew back and cupped his beloved face in her hands, meeting his gaze steadily. He looked back at her with sharp, wretched anguish, a silent plea in his black eyes, glistening with unshed tears. "I will," she said levelly.

Gently, she brought her face to his and kissed the sharp angles of his cheekbone, very lightly. Then his high brow, the tip of his nose, and his stubborn chin. By the time she lifted her mouth to his, he was urgent with it, taking her head firmly in his hands and kissing her fiercely, tangling his fingers in her hair. His mouth burned into hers.

This time, their kiss was hard and intense, nothing slow or chaste about it. He needed her, and he wanted her _now_.

Swiftly, Kivan urged her up and pulled her to him, his hands grasping her hips. He guided her onto the bed so that her knees went either side of him. Rain put her arms around his neck and held on tightly, trembling with anticipation.

There was a sudden sound on the iron staircase outside. Hurried steps, climbing the spiral under the relentless drumming of the rain.

Horrified, Rain met Kivan's eyes. He looked at her, chagrined.

"Were you expecting someone?" she asked breathlessly, her heart racing in alarm.

"Yes." It came out strangled. "But I was hoping that it wouldn't be _right now_."

Rain began to laugh. It _was_ bad timing. "Is the door locked?"

"No," he said ruefully. "And if they do decide to enter, they will find a very beautiful, very naked woman in my arms, and me about to ravish her." Wincing, he helped her off his lap and pulled back the bedcovers, giving her a wry, amused smile. "Get back into bed, my love. I am not done with you yet."

She lay down and grinned up at him, her eyes bright with mirth as he smoothed the covers over her. "Here you are restoring my modesty again, ranger," she teased. "But this time, your beloved, much-mended cloak is nowhere in sight."

Kivan grinned back at her. "What a shame," he said, pulling a dark blue blanket from the foot of the bed and wrapping it snugly around his waist. "I would very much like to see you naked beneath it, my enchanting dryad." The steps reached the landing and there was a firm knock at the door. Kivan padded over to it and opened it, reaching for a covered metal tray that was proffered by a woman's slender hands. Rain glimpsed a saturated blue cloak and the rain outside, falling in a torrent. "Thank you," he said, a little sheepishly.

The woman laughed in appreciation and retreated, heading back out into the inclement weather. Rain sat up and smiled as he closed the door and returned to her, twisting a little as she bundled the pillows behind her back. "Thank you for all of this," she said softly, her eyes warm. She glanced around at the spent candles, the silver and blue cushions tumbled carelessly on the wooden floor. The empty wine jug, her discarded silk gown, neatly folded on the windowseat. "I never did thank you properly last night."

"You thanked me well enough." He sent her a smouldering glance, eyeing her bared body above the coverlet. She laughed, blushing.

"How did you manage all this?" she asked as he settled himself on the bed and lifted the rain-slick lid off the tray, revealing fine cups and bowls, and an assortment of good fare with which they could break their fast. There were nuts and ripe berries, purple and red, and small rolls still warm from the oven. Two of the bowls held a creamy porridge. Rain lifted the lid on a ceramic pot and breathed in appreciatively, enjoying the spicy aroma from a dark tea.

"I had some help." Kivan lifted a berry to her mouth, smiling as she took it from him with her teeth. It burst into sweetness on her tongue. "I begged a favour from the queen. She was only too happy to help."

"Hmm." Rain picked up a berry and returned the favour. He caught her fingertips in his mouth and sucked on them gently, making her shudder in delight. "Remind me to thank Queen Ellesime _very _profusely," she said, her eyes smoky.

They ate together companionably, at ease in this. On the road and in the taverns, they had frequently sought out each other's company at mealtimes, and this was nothing different. It simply furthered the comfortable nature of their intimacy. Rain poured the tea for them both and sipped at it, listening to the rain on the glass ceiling.

Kivan looked at her, something changing in his expression as their comfortable silence drew out, each left to their own thoughts. A faint frown creased his brow. "Yesterday," he said, "when I was walking the woods, I sensed something out of balance. Something…dark. A presence that should not have been there."

Rain glanced at him, instantly worried. "What kind of presence?"

"I am not certain," he said slowly, gravity settling in his angular face. "It was a long way off, but too close for my liking, given the powerful wards that cloak Suldanessellar's forest. Whoever, or whatever it was, did not belong, and the ancient trees knew it. They…recoiled from it," he explained soberly.

Now she was very concerned. "And you think it might have something to do with me?" she guessed, seeing the flicker of recognition in his dark eyes.

"It might." Grimly, he took a swallow of his own tea, musing. "I do not wish to alarm you," he said carefully, "but I learned things while I was waiting for you to recover. Very important things that I should have paid more attention to while we were in Athkatla, had not my mind been far more preoccupied with your welfare and safety, and getting Imoen back from Irenicus." He sighed. "Ellesime filled me in on certain events that she had become aware of, even before Irenicus and the drow started warring with Suldanessellar. The word is that other Children of Bhaal have been hunted down mercilessly, that their blood has been spilt by both their murderous siblings and frightened townsfolk, fearing the war foretold in Alaundo's prophecy. Apparently many of your siblings gather in Tethyr."

"Tethyr," she echoed softly, wondering. She finished her tea and set it down thoughtfully. "Not the Sword Coast," she murmured, "where I always assumed the war would begin."

"Maybe it did," Kivan said quietly, "but it seems there are many more players than we were aware of before. The game has changed, and we need to adapt."

Rain nodded. She stared down at her hands gravely, the old burdens settling on her again_. _

_Gorion's ward_. Harbinger of death and destruction.

Kivan sighed. "Forgive me, cor'amin. I did not mean to lay more troubles on you." Leaning forward, he gently kissed her brow, sweet and affectionate. "Have you had enough to eat?" he asked. She nodded again, warmed by his tenderness, and smiled.

"I have."

He rose and set the tray down on the floor. Coming back to her, he unwrapped the blanket from his waist and slipped beneath the covers beside her, but not before she was able to shoot him a quick, admiring glance. He laughed softly in his throat and drew her down to him, moving over her, but there was still a lingering sense of gravity about him. He braced himself on his arms and pressed his body firmly to hers. She could feel how much he needed her.

"Do you know," he said softly, tracing the line of her face with a gentle fingertip, "that while I was waiting for you to return to your body, I reveried about the day we met." He looked at her soberly, a strange combination of tenderness and hesitation in his expression. "I have been trying to understand why I turned on you that day, why I chose to do what I did." He shook his head in dark self-reflection. "I have been trying to understand ever since I met you." He sighed. "It is not something that I would normally do, putting fear into a vulnerable young woman, and I have been berating myself ever since. But," he said more softly, "I suspect that my actions were not entirely my own. I do not say this lightly, _Rosa_. I believe the Black Archer set me in your path deliberately, knowing that you could guide me to my vengeance. Which you did," he added, giving her a soft, lingering kiss. Rain sank her fingers into his curls and kissed him back, waiting for him to continue.

"That day," he whispered, "I tested your mettle. I wanted to see what you were made of, how much courage you had. And you did not disappoint me." He laid his brow on hers, fervent. "You have never disappointed me," he said thickly. "All this time, you have been slowly healing the ragged wounds in my spirit, all without me being quite aware of it. All this time, you have been you, and you have let me be _me_." He drew back a little and looked down at her, a small frown creasing his brow as he tried to find the right words. Rain looked at him gravely, gently caressing his neck and shoulders, giving him reassurance to continue.

"I scarcely recognise myself now," he said rawly, his eyes filled with a sweet, tender pain. "You gave me your quiet friendship without expectation. You didn't push me; you didn't try to change me. But slowly, you brought sunlight into my world again. And then you became my dearest friend." Kivan kissed her again. This time, it was deep and heartfelt, his passion intense and enduring. Rain kissed him back with fierce ardour.

Lifting his head, he looked into her eyes once more. "_I love you_," he said painfully. "I have also come to suspect that while Sheverash set me in your path that day, it was Sehanine Moonbow who led me back to you." His voice broke. "She has always understood and accepted his pain and fury, just as you have done for me. It was her grace that whispered in my ear after I left you in Baldur's Gate and urged me to return to you, to walk again by your side." His voice dropped to an almost-inaudible whisper. "And now you, beloved, are my sweetest reward."

Gasping, her heart constricting with emotion, Rain threw her arms around him and embraced him very tightly. Tears streaked her cheeks. She gazed up at him through their mist, smiling softly as he wiped them away. "You seem to be very good at making me cry," she whispered, pulling his head down to hers once more.

"Then let's change that," he breathed against her mouth.

Slowly, deeply, he made love to her, his hips rocking in a smooth, rhythmic motion, pushing her back into the bed. Rain clung to him. Pleasure drowned her in building waves. Her entire body moved instinctively with his, guided by the depth of each thrust, the look in his fevered eyes as he locked his gaze with hers.

It was long and thorough, just as he had promised her. A profound sealing of their intimacy. And when Kivan finally surrendered, smothering the sound of his pleasure in her damp neck, Rain ran her fingers through his hair and smiled very contentedly.

They were together, and it was _right_.


	12. Chapter 12

REFORGED

CHAPTER 12 – LURE 

Later, when the damp gusts had all-but blown themselves out and the low clouds released a heavy drizzle, Kivan lay on his back with his head resting on one arm, Rain sprawled sleepily across his chest. He was unimaginably happy. Her head rested warmly in the hollow of his throat, fitted perfectly as though she belonged there. One of her hands lay sweetly entangled with his dishevelled curls. Gently, he traced small, lazy circles on her lower back with his fingertip, smiling in satisfaction as she made a soft, drowsy sound of pleasure. He took his ease in the regular rhythm of her breath, of the way her chest rose and fell so reassuringly against his. Peace flooded his heart, warm and tranquil.

He mused over why he had taken so long to do this, to tell her how he felt. And how good it was to finally be with her.

Idly, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head and smiled, his lips curving against her sunset hair. "Amin mela lle," he whispered. _I love you_.

She roused and lifted her head, smiling at him dreamily. "And I love you," she said softly, "cuar'amin." _My archer_.

Hearing herself, Rain's smile turned rueful. Her elvish was still tentative and hesitant. There were times when she spoke and was instantly shy with it, like now, when she lay bare and vulnerable in his arms, her flaws exposed. And he loved her for it. Both her foster father and Candlekeep's scholars had tried their best to give her a rudimentary instruction in the language of her birth, but while her elvish was passable, it fell well short of the lyrical, silver-tongued familiarity spoken by one who had grown up with her own kin. Rain's vocabulary was limited, and she was acutely conscious of it.

"You did very well," he told her fondly, seeing her blue eyes warm in gratitude. "I will speak to you in elvish more often, so you can grow comfortable in it. Would you like that, isilme?"

"_Isilme_." She tried it on her tongue, frowning uncertainly.

Kivan smiled at her and unfolded his arm from behind his head, urging her up to him. He buried his fingers in her silken hair. "Moonlight," he whispered as he brought her face to his.

He kissed her for a time, languorous and slow, delighting in the honeyed fire of her mouth and the way she responded to him so easily. Rain sighed contentedly. When they eventually parted, he was left with a thoroughly pleasant, insistent sensation that he was not as satiated as he had first thought.

Kivan grimaced. "And there I was thinking that I should finally consider releasing you to the outside world again," he said wryly. "I want to keep you all to myself. You have charmed me, falmarin." _Nymph_. "I am your eager, devoted servant, ready to do your bidding at the merest hint of your smile and affection."

She laughed softly, her eyes bright. "I would rather have you as _you_, and not as my servant, Kivan, no matter how eager you would be. It wouldn't be much fun, ordering you around all day and night. Although," she added, her smile turning mischievous, "perhaps I _could_ consider the evenings. _Sometimes_," she choked out with breathless laughter as he narrowed his eyes at her playfully.

"Don't you already order me about, my beautiful, brave leader?" he teased her, chuckling at the fierce, indignant expression that flashed across her lovely face. "Commanding your poor ranger to do this and that," he said in a sorry tone, "endlessly running around after you, finding your forest trails and hunting down game for your evening meals?"

Rain gave him a perfectly-feminine glare, though her stifled mirth twitched at her lips. "Oh, wretched man that you are," she teased back, her amused smile finally breaking out. "Such unwanted, difficult tasks that you have. And yet you perform them so very _well_."

She laughed quietly. As her smile faded, however, her expression turned pensive. A shadow settled in her eyes.

"Beloved," she said softly, "I would like nothing more than to stay with you here all day. Just you and I, and nothing else." She sighed heavily. "But," she continued, "I have this foreboding, a feeling that our reprieve is nearly over. I have been thinking about what you said earlier, about the dark presence in the forest."

He looked at her gravely, waiting for her to continue.

"I think you may be right," she admitted. "I think it may be connected to me somehow. I am not sure precisely how, but instinct tells me it nonetheless." She read his sober eyes. "Does this make any sense to you?" she asked quietly, reluctantly.

Unfortunately, it did. When he had been walking beneath the boughs, yesterday's rains sinking cold and wet into his hood, he had felt that elusive presence, prowling along the borders of the old elven wards. It was distant, yes, but it was in a place that no creature of dark intent should be, too close to Suldanessellar for comfort. It was not drow; his honed senses had told him that. Most drow, if not all, would have retreated by now after their failed, bloody war. Besides, this presence had been far removed from the ruined temple that Adalon had once guarded, in nearly the opposite direction.

It troubled him greatly.

Tightening his arms around her, Kivan sighed. "It does make sense," he told her grimly. "And I will take your warning to heart, amael." Pulling her closer, he gave her a regretful kiss. "Shall we return then?" he asked her gently.

Rain smiled softly, tenderly pulling one of his long curls through her fingers. "Until this evening, my ranger?"

He cupped her face in his hands and smiled back. "I will be waiting," he promised her, low and husky.

And by the Seldarine, he _would_ be. _Very_, eagerly.

She rose and slipped from the bed, the covers falling back to reveal her lean, lithe form. He had a splendid view as she walked lightly over to the window seat, her bare feet soft on the wooden floor. She moved like the kensai-mage she was: quietly, confidently, and very gracefully, at one with her supple body. She reminded him of a fleet deer, fluid as it leaped away between the trees. Or perhaps a sleek panther padding through the dappled shadows.

Reaching for the lovely gown, she shook it out carefully and stepped into the silk, her bright hair falling forward as she pulled it up over her slender hips.

He couldn't help his low murmur of appreciation. "Beautiful," he said, admiring her openly. "I do hope that you intend to keep the gown, _Rosa_. I like it on you very much."

Rain turned her head to smile at him, slipping her arms through the delicate bronze sleeves. "I do," she assured him, "but I fear that my pack will not be very forgiving towards it." Coming to him, she turned so that her back was exposed. "Can you please help me with the ribbon?"

"Of course, vanima." Rising, Kivan left their bed and stood behind her, dropping a warm kiss on her shoulder. Then he gently moved aside the tousled fall of her hair. Surprisingly, the memory of how to lace up a woman's gown came easily to him, his fingers nimble as he tightened the long, copper ribbon and neatly tied it off. Unexpectedly, it brought him a jolt of raw, aching joy. "There, fairest," he said, pleased with his efforts. "All done."

Rain turned to face him, lifting herself up so she could give him an appreciative kiss. "Thank you," she whispered.

He caught her around the waist and kissed her back. "You are very welcome," he responded, smiling warmly.

She wandered over to a carved wooden clothing chest while he surveyed the treehouse for his clothes, finding his breeches carelessly discarded beside the bed. He pulled them on, quietly amused at how little thought he had given them. His new linen shirt and boots were tossed on the floor by the window seat, so he headed for them, pulling the shirt over his head in one fluid motion and lacing the rich-brown boots up to his knees. Rain's lovely hairnet caught his eye where it glinted on the table beside his falcon pendant. He touched one of the tiny glistening diamonds lightly, smiling at Rain as she returned to him with two dark cloaks folded over her arm and a hairbrush in her hand. She had already worked out the snarls from her russet locks, and her hair spilled like dark fire down her back.

Rain's eyes went to the hairnet, admiring it. "Thank you for this," she said very softly, her eyes warm with gratitude as she met his gaze again. "It is absolutely beautiful, and I will treasure it always." Smiling at him tenderly, she set down the brush and reached for his hand. "I also wanted to thank you for the falcon. It is perfect, Kivan. You are a truly gifted carver, and I hope you will have the chance to do more of it sometime."

Warmed by her quiet joy, Kivan lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers, his heart lifting. "Perhaps I will," he agreed, "when there is time."

Absently, he reached for the brush and dragged it through his unruly hair, watching as Rain slipped into one of the thick cloaks. She gave him a wry smile.

"I think we will have to borrow these," she remarked, glancing up at the rain-misted glass ceiling. "I am sure they will forgive us, given the weather."

He nodded and shrugged into the other cloak. "Come here, amael," he murmured. "Let me see if I can pin your hairnet in place." He did his best, gently taking the very fine lengths of silver chain and trying to arrange the graceful coils as he had seen them last night. "There," he said softly, enchanted all over again. "The stars are back in your hair. I will need to learn how to do this properly, elen'amin, so I can create the effect again."

Slipping an arm around her, Kivan drew her close and picked up his falcon pendant, the key still dangling from the cord. He led her to the door but hesitated. One last time, he scanned the lovely, rain-shadowed room with immense satisfaction, delighted that he had pleased Rain so well.

_Their star bower_.

Their memories, belonging only to her and to him.

"Rain," he breathed. Folding her tightly in his arms, he kissed her very deeply, putting all of his ardent longing, his passion and need into their fervent embrace. His heart thudded with love and joy. Rain slid her fingers into his hair and kissed him back, her mouth opening sensually beneath his. "Amael," he whispered. "I love you."

With a sigh, he gave her a raw, affectionate smile and gently pulled the dark hood up over her head, and then his own. He took her hand, laced his fingers through hers, and led her out into the persistent drizzle.

xxxx xxxx

They returned to the lovely stone house where Demin and her priestesses had tended them, Kivan ushering Rain inside the warm fire-lit atrium with one hand settled reassuringly on the small of her back. Rain gave him a small smile from beneath her sodden hood. She pushed it back, the dark folds clinging damply to her shoulders. But instead of unclasping her own cloak-pin, she reached for his. Her fingers were cold but deft as she worked, carefully drawing out the long silver pin from the gathered cloth and then re-pinning the brooch to one side so it would not be misplaced.

Kivan smiled down at her very warmly, seeing the answering light in her eyes as she raised them to his. There was pleasure to be had in the sharing of these simple tasks, and he marvelled yet again at how easy it was to be with her, how she made things feel so natural. She was a rare gift, his beloved, and he was going to make certain that she knew it.

He had been right, in the beginning, to place his trust in her. And his trust had been rewarded in more ways than even he could have imagined.

Rain pushed the heavy swathes of wet wool from his shoulders, helping him out of the borrowed cloak. Then she turned and neatly hung it on an iron hook by the door. "There," she said, satisfied.

"Your turn," he murmured, returning the favour. Carefully, he unwrapped her from the thick folds, his heart quickening at the beautiful smile that Rain bestowed on him. When he was finished and the damp cloak hung on the wall beside his, Kivan slung an arm around her waist and pulled her to him comfortably. "Are you ready, fairest?"

She considered him thoughtfully. "Do you realise," she mused, "this is the first time that we will be facing them together as…_us_?"

So it was. Kivan kissed her brow tenderly, smiling.

"It is," he agreed. "And I, for one, am very glad about that." Tightening his arm around her, he scanned the wide atrium, lit by dozens of glass lamps. "Shall we, fairest?"

Together, they found their three companions in a parlour just off the atrium, idling away the early afternoon before a fire blazing in a large carved-stone hearth. Imoen was curled up comfortably on a lounge, utterly engrossed in a book. There was a rapt expression on her freckled face. Nearby, Jaheira poured over an ancient tome by the light of a bronze lamp. Anomen was the only one not engaged in quiet activity. Instead, he stared out the rain-streaked window, brooding. None of them seemed particularly concerned about Kivan's and Rain's whereabouts, which he expected, for he had ensured that a message would go to Jaheira that Rain was safely with him. As he surveyed their companions, however, Kivan was sharply reminded of who was missing, of who else should have been sharing their relaxed company.

_Aerie_. It set off a poignant twinge in his heart.

Beneath his arm, Rain stiffened, and he wondered if her thoughts were following the same path as his. Sighing, she leaned her head on his shoulder. "I miss her," she said very quietly, sorrowing.

Kivan swallowed painfully and lifted his free hand to her hair, stroking it gently. "I know," he murmured. "I do too."

Jaheira glanced up from her book, her eyes straying to them in the doorway. "Ah," she said, a tiny frown clearing from her brow. Wryly, she scrutinised their attire from the previous evening, the way his arm was wrapped so snugly around Rain's waist. "I see that you have finally decided to show yourselves."

Imoen's head snapped up from her book. Spying them, she chortled gleefully and tossed the book aside, leaping up from the lounge.

"_Aww_," she said, cocking her head to one side and considering first Rain and then Kivan, turning a very bright, cheeky smile on them both. "Look at you two! Aren't you both so cute!"

Rain blushed, her cheeks stained a furious pink. "_Im_," she pleaded, sounding strangled.

Kivan sent Imoen a chagrined look, not sure whether to laugh or flush with mortification. "I am not sure that 'cute' is _quite_ the word that I would use for myself," he said dryly, taking refuge in sarcasm.

Imoen grinned up at him. "Oh, get over yourself already," she said impudently, rolling her eyes. Her mischievous smile turned positively wicked. "Hey Kivvy," she needled, eyeing him like a cat about to pounce, "does this mean that I get to call you _brother_ now?"

He startled in embarrassment, trying to hide his wince in Rain's hair. But he could feel her muffled laughter, and his lips twitched into an amused smile. He lifted his head and gave Rain's impish sister the sternest look that he could manage under the circumstances.

"You're unbelievable," he retorted, suppressing his laughter. On a whim, he reached out and mussed up Imoen's pink hair, chuckling as she let out a girlish shriek and jumped backwards, nearly colliding with Jaheira.

The druid gave her a human ward a long-suffering glance, shaking her head in despair. Then she returned her attention to Rain and Kivan. "I am happy for you both," she said with gentle warmth, meeting their eyes in turn. But there was a gravity about her that Kivan instantly recognised. He sobered, seeing the shadow behind Jaheira's eyes, the fresh grief that she tried unsuccessfully to hide. _Khalid_.

Rain, too, was sensitive to Jaheira's pain. "Thank you," she said softly, briefly taking one of the woman's hands in her own.

Jaheira gave her a small, crooked smile and then waved her concern away. "It is nothing, child. Go, and be happy."

By the window, Anomen watched them, his arms folded across his chest. He was still brooding. He met Kivan's eyes briefly, a sullen spark in them.

Kivan rendered his own expression impassive, his mouth set in a neutral line. The knight had known full well what Kivan's intentions were towards Rain. But then Anomen sighed and relented, offering him a tiny nod.

Somewhat surprised, Kivan returned it. Throughout these past weeks, they had all been changed in one way or another; some for the better, some for the worse. Perhaps the brash knight was finally learning some forbearance.

"Ah, there you are." Demin's brisk voice carried across the atrium. There was a new note in it that Kivan didn't appreciate; something cool and guarded.

He turned, tensing as the priestess hurried towards them, her white robes trailing over the stone floor. There was a grave look on her face.

"It is good that you have returned," she said to Rain and himself, though she didn't sound overly pleased. "I was just beginning to worry that I would have to send someone to fetch you."

The woman pulled up short before Rain. There was a wary, not-quite-pitying look in her indigo eyes as she regarded Rain intently, and Kivan instantly stiffened: it was the look of someone who now only saw Rain's dark heritage, and not the determined young woman who had helped to save the revered Tree of Life. He recalled Demin's obvious aversion to acknowledging Rain's paternity, and her distaste that had echoed Jaheira's.

Kivan bit his tongue on a burst of anger. It infuriated him. Time and time again, he saw how quick people were to dismiss Rain's good-intentioned deeds, staring hard at her with suspicion and distrust once her back was turned. It had happened in Baldur's Gate, and the pattern seemed to be repeating itself again here. Disgusted, he barely concealed his glare. Rain was elven; no matter her father's origins, she should be treated with the same respect that any saviour of their kin should be awarded.

"A message has come from the queen," Demin told them. "I regret that I must ask you to pack your things, and quickly. Her majesty wishes to see you just as soon as you have packed. Danger lurks outside Suldanessellar's gates, and we cannot tarry." There was a new hardness in her eyes, as though Rain had deliberately lured whatever fell presence awaited them outside the city. Then she hesitated, seeing Rain's very still expression. "I have arranged for fresh supplies and clothing to be delivered to your rooms. Gather them quickly, and return to me here in the foyer."

In the face of Demin's clear prejudices, Rain maintained her composure, returning the priestess' gaze levelly. She was outwardly calm. But underneath, Kivan could sense the tension in her, the stab of hurt that the woman's cool manner had elicited. And there, too, was Rain's sharp sorrow, the knowledge that _yes_, their reprieve was at an end.

Kivan's heart twisted in sympathy. Holding Demin's eyes, he deliberately shifted closer to Rain and settled his hand protectively on her bare shoulder, letting her know that she did not face this alone. Though she didn't react, he sensed Rain's silent rush of gratitude, her shoulder relaxing slightly beneath his hand.

"Thank you," she said to Demin evenly, "for your generosity and the care you showed us while we were recovering from our battle with Irenicus."

_A subtle reminder of just what Suldanessellar owed them_.

"We will gather our things immediately," she continued. "Thank you, priestess," she said again, inclining her head politely.

Turning on her heel, Rain strode towards the stairs, her expression neutral but her body stiff and uncomfortable in her bronze silk dress. Bristling with anger, Kivan flanked her. He waited until they were at the door to her chamber, out of Demin's sight, before pulling her into his arms and holding her tightly, trying to soothe the tension in her slight body.

"You deserved better than that," he whispered, burying his face in her diamond-studded hair.

"Do I?" Rain sighed. "The taint is in me," she pointed out quietly, "and many of them have seen it. Elhan himself told me that I wear darkness openly, and that it haunts my every step." She gripped the back of his white shirt tightly, seeking comfort. "What if I _have_ drawn trouble to Suldanessellar's gates?" she asked. "Elhan was right," she said, more than a little bitterly. "But even he didn't see how far I truly fell."

Kivan shook his head, though not in agreement. He pulled back so he could meet her sober eyes. "You have your soul back now, amael," he reminded her gently, "and your heart is as bright as it ever was. _Elhan_ does not know you as I do." He kissed the top of her head. "Come, cor'amin. Let's get packed, and see what the rest of the day brings."


	13. Chapter 13

REFORGED

CHAPTER 13 – GRACE 

Kivan gathered his few possessions swiftly, working with practised haste to fill his pack with both his prized older items, and the new supplies and clothing that Demin had ordered left for them. He stripped off his fine linen shirt and pulled on the light, dusky-grey tunic that the priestess had given him on the morning he had re-awoken. Over the top, he buckled on the shadow dragon scale, feeling the ebony links slither into place. Then his sword belt; his long dagger and quiver. The silver vorpal sword in its tooled-leather sheath.

Remembering the pleasure Rain had taken in his wooden falcon, he carefully wrapped up the new set of chisels and carving tools and stowed them in his pack. Then he eyed the new cloak folded up neatly on the bed. Warily, he lifted it, reluctantly admiring the fine elven-weave, the blended greys that would suit a ranger's silent stalking through the twilight.

Obviously, someone had taken it upon themselves to not-so-subtly inform him that it was high time he had a new cloak. His mouth twisted. He didn't think that _someone _was Rain.

Making up his mind, Kivan rolled up the grey cloak and bundled it into his pack, which was now stuffed to capacity. He would keep the cloak for when he was good and ready. But for now, he reached for his old forest-green cloak and pulled it around his shoulders, a warm contentment coming over him as the familiar folds enveloped him once more.

Yes, it was worn. Yes, it was badly patched and admittedly bedraggled, but it had seen him through more scraps than he could count, more freezing nights on the cold, hard ground than he cared to remember. And it was his. He had met Rain in this ragged thing. Besides, for some unfathomable reason, she seemed to _like_ it.

The thought made him grin foolishly. _Women_. If he had dared to suggest to Deheriana that he would attend an audience with a queen dressed like _this_, then his wife would have sighed, shaken her head in mock despair, and told him in no uncertain terms that such a tattered garment was unseemly. Then she would have put him in more suitable attire.

Kivan's smile slowly faded, though his fondness remained. Life was very different now. He was a changed man; scarred and battle-ready. One cared less about whether a well-mended cloak would offend royalty, and more about whether his blades were whetted keenly enough, whether his arrows would fly straight and true. This was something that Rain understood only too well.

Thinking of her, he returned to the task at hand. Briskly, he strode over to the wall where his two unstrung longbows rested against the stone: the powerful mana bow, magnificent and strong, and the splendid bow that Deheriana had gifted to him on their wedding day. He touched it gently, running his finger along the elvish inscriptions in the supple wood, the endearments she had inscribed there. His heart ached. It was fond and familiar, with a lacing of old pain. But it was not the sharp stab of grief and guilt that had wounded him all these years.

Perhaps, in time, he would be able to look upon her bow tenderly, and simply think of the good things.

It gave him hope. _Rain_ gave him hope.

Smiling faintly, he thought of Rain's gentle, welcoming acceptance of him, of her enduring love and bright, wild joy.

There was no _perhaps_ anymore. The fact of the matter was that he was utterly in love with her; it was the very simple, honest truth. When he analysed himself, Kivan suspected that he might already be changing, on his way to reconciling his past with his new future.

Queen Ellesime's benediction filtered back to him, and her wise, golden grace. _Find your peace, Kivan of Shilmista_, she had bid him._ Carry your burden no more. _

"I will." It was the faintest sound on his lips, but it calmed him, firming his resolve. "_I will_."

Lifting Deheriana's bow, Kivan drew in a long, steadying breath, and slid the shaft through a leather holder on his pack that he had crafted for the purpose. Then he expertly bent the mana bow and hooked the bowstring to the shaft. With a final glance around the guest chamber, he slid his arms through his heavy pack, slung the mana bow over his shoulder, and sought out Rain.

She was buckling up her own bulging pack, her head bent intently over the bed as she tugged the leather straps closed. Her russet hair, now plaited, fell forward in a bright coil over her shoulder. She was dressed in her heavy cloak of dark-grey wool. Just watching her sent a quick ripple of joy through him, his heart clenching hard.

Sensing him, Rain lifted her head and turned. Their eyes met.

Her mouth went very soft, her expression warm and admiring as she regarded him in the doorway. "Look at you," she murmured, running her gaze over him.

Just as enthralled, Kivan stared back at her. His mouth went dry.

Beneath her cloak, glimpsed through the narrow slash at the front, Rain now wore black leather breeches and a matching sleeveless vest, both perfectly-fitted to her lean form. From what he could see of it, the leather appeared supple and glossy, with an ebony sheen that made him suspect it was enchanted, likely against ordinary wear-and-tear. Black boots completed the ensemble, rising to Rain's calves.

Kivan's mind went utterly blank. Desire leaped in him.

Taking a slow, purposeful step towards her, he crossed the room with his eyes intent on hers, not looking away until he was standing close enough to touch her. Then, with that same slow purpose, he parted the cloak and _looked_ at her, hearing the answering catch in her breath.

_Oh, Seldarine_. She set a fever boiling in his blood.

The leathers were as close-fitting as he had imagined. Beneath the vest, Rain wore a thin charcoal tunic, hugging her skin. Her paired crimson scabbards hung at her hips, her sword-belt buckled tight. Somehow, the vivid contrast between crimson and ebony emphasised her narrow waist, the leathers showing up the litheness of her legs. The vest and breeches fit her too well to be happenstance; she must have been _measured_ for this.

Swallowing hard, Kivan lifted his gaze to her face once more. There was a faint blush on her cheeks, a hint of both shyness and pleasure in her eyes as she observed his reaction. The fire in his blood roared into hot, blazing life.

Suddenly, he wished very badly that he could ignore the queen's summons, and instead spend the rest of the afternoon closeted here with Rain.

_If only_.

"Rain," he whispered, hoarse. Reaching one hand beneath her cloak, he slowly smoothed his hand down the curve of her hip, feeling his breathing quicken. The leather was as supple as it looked. He stifled a groan, cupped her waist firmly in both hands, and drew her to him. "You look… You look…" He couldn't even finish the sentence.

Rain smiled faintly. "Black?" she suggested, lacing her fingers behind his neck. She tilted her head back so she could read his bemused expression.

Kivan laughed softly, wry. "That wasn't quite what I was going to say, but it will suffice."

Rain's smile turned ironic. "If I am going to be the scourge of the Sword Coast," she said dryly, "then I may as well look the part. I take it that you like it, then?"

"_Yes_." His reply was strangled. "When did you –?"

"Commission this?" She stepped back and glanced down at herself critically. "Yesterday, while you were gone. I had a fair bit of time on my hands," she noted, "and there wasn't much else for me to do while I was resting. So I arranged for this to be made." Her eyes suddenly gleamed, bright and keen. "It is _not _armour," she informed him, a smile twitching about her lovely mouth. "Merely an… added layer of protection. Just in case you were hoping that I am finally starting to see sense."

Kivan shook his head, laughter in his eyes. He had long since given up trying to point out the benefits of light armour, though it would interfere with her spell-casting. Instead, he focused intensely on protecting her in combat, spitting anyone who would overpower her full of arrows. "You are as stubborn as ever, my beautiful, wayward sword-saint."

"That I am." With a smile, Rain gently adjusted the fall of his green cloak, smoothing the coarse folds. There was so much tenderness in the gesture that it brought a sharp, painful ache to Kivan's heart. "Do you know," she said softly, "that I have missed seeing you in this?" She eyed another tear in his ragged cloak rather ruefully, one that had opened up since their battle for Suldanessellar. "But I think a sewing needle wouldn't go amiss."

Kivan grinned down at her, his jet eyes gleaming with delighted mirth. Taking Rain's face in his hands, he kissed her soundly. "You, amael," he said when he released her, "are perfect." He gave her a self-satisfied look and kissed the tip of her nose. "Did you know that?"

She gave him a small, sober smile, but there was affection in her eyes. "I don't think there would be too many people who would agree with you," she pointed out, "but I am glad you think so."

He sighed, thinking of Demin again. "Come here, _Rosa_," he said gently, settling his arm around her waist. Hefting her overburdened pack in his other hand, he ignored her protest and slid one of the leather straps over his free shoulder, grimacing at the additional weight.

At the doorway he paused.

"I have a confession to make," he told her, wanting to see Rain smile one last time before they were forced to deal with Demin again. His lips quirked into another amused smile. "They gave me a new cloak, but I like this one better."

His quip had the desired effect. Rain burst out laughing, rewarding him by leaning into him and wrapping her arm tightly around his waist. She smiled up at him. "Then I will need to improve my embroidery skills, so this poor cloak of yours doesn't fall to pieces around you."

xxxx xxxx

Demin herself escorted them to the palace, the white cowl of her cloak drawn resolutely forward to keep out the rain. Her steps were light and swift. She said nothing to Rain, merely giving her a small nod to enter when they arrived at the palace steps. Kivan's anger smouldered. He caught Rain's eye briefly as Demin lifted the hem of her robes and advanced before them, recognising the tight strain in Rain's face beneath her grey hood.

They were admitted by impassive guards clad in fine elven chain, their sharp, mistrustful eyes tracking Rain and Imoen from beneath their helms. Kivan thought of the dying solider that he and Rain had been unable to save. The fury rose in him, the knowledge that he and his companions had spilt blood for Suldanessellar, fighting alongside these very same warriors, these same men and women.

Rain had paid a brutal price for Suldanessellar, the cost of Irenicus' crimes.

So had Imoen.

Aerie had lost her _life_.

With those dark thoughts churning in his mind, Kivan carefully schooled his stern features, trying to keep a rein on his simmering anger. He edged closer to Rain.

Inside the palace, a young retainer, a girl who bore the marks of fresh grief in her face, showed them to a grand antechamber with a floor patterned in jewelled tones of emerald and azure, gold and jasper. The stunning mosaic depicted the Tree of Life. The girl beckoned to them to set down their packs. Kivan did so, shrugging out of both his and Rain's and resting them, wet and dripping, on the coloured tiles. He eyed the four dour guardsmen warily. For a moment, he wondered if they were going to insult the party by demanding their weapons, but fortunately, they held their silence.

The girl rapped at a heavy door carved with a border of twisting vines, leaves and tiny flowers. There was a muffled reply. She turned the handle and ushered them into the queen's receiving room.

Demin strode in first. Gliding across the floor to where the queen sat at a gilt table, Elhan standing beside her and frowning down at a yellowing parchment spread across the polished surface, the priestess pushed back her wet hood and offered her monarch a deep curtsey. "Your majesty," she said respectfully in Common. "I have brought them, as you requested."

"Yes." Ellesime's acknowledgment was very soft. Her grave eyes swept over the party as they halted behind Demin. Kivan and Rain stood closely together, Imoen and Anomen coming up on Rain's other side. Jaheira calmly took her place beside Kivan. They each offered the queen courteous nods, which Ellesime gracefully returned. "It is well that you have all come," she said in her clear golden voice, "for there are matters of grave import that we need to discuss."

The queen fixed her eyes on Rain. Swiftly, she assessed Rain's polite but unreadable expression, the stiffness in her shoulders beneath her cloak. Something changed in Ellesime's lovely face. She transferred her gaze to Demin and gave her a long, level look until the woman shifted uneasily, a trace of discomfort in her expression. Ellesime's mouth thinned, ever so slightly.

Kivan eyed both the queen and priestess with pricked interest. He had already experienced Ellesime's shrewdness, and he had the distinct impression now that she was aware of the tense undercurrent between Rain and Demin, the coolness the priestess was unable to fully mask.

Ellesime sighed. Rising, she came to Rain, the tawny gold of her gown floating across the stone floor. Lightly, _deliberately_, she took Rain's hands in her own and kissed her cheek in warm greeting, regret and sorrow in her manner.

Out of the corner of his eye, Kivan saw Demin give a guilty start. He allowed himself a tiny glimmer of satisfaction; just a small one.

Behind the table, Elhan folded his arms across his mail-clad chest and watched Rain soberly.

"Rain," Ellesime said gently. "Please, forgive me the urgency of my summons. It was not my wish to hasten your departure." Briefly, she glanced at Kivan, genuinely pained. "You have all done so much for Suldanessellar," she said, resting her eyes on each of them in turn, "and I am sorry that we must rush this, after all the good you have done. I do hope that you will be able to understand our urgency."

Her emerald gaze came back to Rain again. As familiar with his beloved as he was, Kivan sensed Rain's turmoil, her silent struggling with some emotion that Kivan thought he understood.

She had come here bracing herself for grim tidings and more of Demin's obvious distrust. Ellesime's kindness was a gift unlooked for, but welcomed rawly nonetheless.

Rain swallowed tightly, her hand still clasped in Ellesime's. "Thank you, your majesty," she said quietly, earning her a soft, fond look from the queen.

"Come." Ellesime gestured to the parchment spread over the table. Releasing Rain's hand, she swept across to it, secure in her role as Suldanessellar's gracious but firm ruler.

Exchanging a quick, curious look with Rain, Kivan followed, examining the unrolled parchment with keen interest.

It was a detailed map of the Forest of Tethir and its surrounding territories. Faded inked lines showed the location of the city and the greater boundaries of the southern forest, marking the rivers and elven trails. To the south lay the Starspire Mountains and Tethyr. To the north rose the Small Teeth pass and the lower portion of Amn. And there in the north-east, drawing his hungry eyes like a lodestone, was Shilmista, the portion of the forest represented drawn as carefully and exquisitely as Suldanessellar's own. Kivan's heart gave an involuntary leap.

Queen Ellesime bent her fair head over the map and tapped her finger on the parchment to the east of Suldanessellar. "There," she said very grimly. "_Something_," she said with sudden sharpness, "or someone, has decided to try to interfere with the ancient wards that shield the forest surrounding the city." There was a hard, protective note in her voice that cut like crystal. "Fortunately for us, the wards are old and powerful. They were set in place long ago by the greatest of our people, granted by Rillifane's grace and power. But whoever is tampering with the wards is very determined. They skulk along the boundaries with knowledge and purpose, seeking entrance."

Kivan felt his blood run cold, his instincts confirmed.

"As you can imagine," the queen continued, "this troubles me greatly. The city is still reeling from the devastating wounds that Joneleth inflicted on it. If I need to spare my priestesses to bolster the wards then I will do so," she added, giving Demin a significant look, "but it seems to me there is another way, and I fear it comes down to you, Rain."

Ellesime straightened her spine and regarded Rain soberly.

"The attack upon my city's wards is intolerable," she said, her expression composed but determined. "It is premeditated and spiteful. Whatever this malicious presence is, it must be driven off or defeated, and quickly. We cannot waste time."

For the first time since they entered, Elhan spoke up, as grim as the queen. "Her majesty and I share the same suspicions," he said bluntly to Rain. "We believe this may involve yourself and Imoen." His gaze flickered briefly to Bhaal's other daughter, who studied him through narrowed eyes, her cheerful disposition banished for the time being. "It is not safe for either of you now, and the city is too weakened to shelter you from a determined assault."

The war captain hesitated, meeting Rain's eyes once again.

"I lost many brave men and women in the battle with Irenicus," he said with an edge in his voice, though Kivan didn't think it was necessarily directed at Rain. "Good soldiers, who gave their very blood for the wellbeing of Suldanessellar. I would spare a company to see you safely out of the forest if I could, but you are more than capable of seeing to yourselves. So as it stands, I will have a scout show you the beginning of the trail you must take through the forest, but I can do no more."

Rain lifted her head, regarding him grimly. "Then that is the help we will accept," she replied, calm and self-sufficient.

The queen moved her finger to another part of the map. "There is another way that I might be able to help you," she said. "You are elven, Rain; a kinswoman, even if you were not born of Suldanessellar. Moreover, you share the blood of a god." Ellesime tapped the map again. "Here, in the glade of the ancestors, the ancient spirits that guard Suldanessellar may be able to shed light on your destiny, and where you must go. Speak with them, and gather what knowledge you can. It is the best advice that I can give you."

She paused, her expression softening.

"You have already done so much for us," she said gently, "for all of Suldanessellar. Will you undertake this final service for us, and lead this menace from our gates?"

Rain met Ellesime's gaze evenly. Kivan knew damned well that they had no choice, but Rain simply squared her shoulders and answered with quiet dignity, making Kivan's heart twist all over again. "We will, your majesty, and gladly."

With her acceptance, a tension dissipated from the room. Ellesime leaned her hands on the table and regarded Rain levelly. "Thank you," she said fiercely, her green eyes burning into Rain's. "Take your grace with you, Rain, and let it see you through the storm to come. Suldanessellar is once more in your debt."

Again, the queen hesitated. This time, however, her eyes were shadowed as she surveyed Rain, pensive and wondering. "Rain," she said softly, "do you know anything of your mother? Where you were born, and your kin-group?"

At Kivan's side, Rain went very still. "No, your majesty. I do not."

"A pity." Ellesime gave her a searching look, making a decision. "When the war foretold in Alaundo's prophecy is over, and peace is restored to your life, know that you will be welcomed back to Suldanessellar with open arms and great joy. You _all_ will. It is my sovereign will, and it has the grace of our father Rillifane behind it."

Silently, Demin bowed her dark head in acceptance. To Kivan's relief, there was no bitterness in her smooth expression.

_When_.

Queen Ellesime had spoken of _when_, not _if_.

Kivan settled his sober gaze on Rain, moving instinctively closer to her. His fierce, protective streak rose in him, his stubborn determination that he would guard her against all harm. He turned his black, determined eyes on Ellesime and answered for them all.

"When the fight is over," he said grimly, "and Rain and Imoen are safe once more, then we will be very pleased to accept your hospitality, your majesty. All of us."

Ellesime's gaze locked with his, silent accord passing between them. That fierce, protective smile curved her lips. "_Good_."

xxxx xxxx

Elhan and his scout saw them to the city gates, walking a few steps head of the party as the captain passed on his terse instructions. Kivan watched them silently from beneath his hood, the fine drizzle settling on his cloak. Sobered, he contemplated the ramifications of what had transpired within Suldanessellar, of their audience with the queen. Ellesime's gentle kiss of farewell seemed to linger on his brow. It was a timely reminder of what it meant to have her favour, and he was struck yet again by the respect and kindness that Ellesime had shown Rain. His earlier anger towards Demin and their distrustful kin cooled, giving way to a strange, weary resignation.

Rain herself was very quiet. She stood closely by his side as Elhan ordered the great gates unbarred, wrapped in a deep, pensive silence that shrouded her as surely as her cloak. Her face was pale and drawn beneath her dark hood.

Looking down at her, Kivan felt his gaze soften. Briefly, he cupped her cheek in his hand and smoothed his thumb over her cheekbone, smiling as she turned her face into his palm, deepening his caress. His heart warmed as though he had just stepped from shadows into sunlight.

With the gates opened, Elhan motioned them through. "Safe journey," was all he said. In reply, Rain inclined her head and set off after the scout, her steps light but determined. Kivan nodded his head at the captain and took his place by her side. Companionably, they walked together, the misty rain falling as a dim curtain as the distance stretched between themselves and the city.

The scout knew his craft well. He moved confidently down the muddy path, his longbow slung across his back as Kivan's was, his camouflaging cloak taking on the hue of the dense clusters of leaves that crowded close, rain dripping from their green tips.

Once, Kivan paused and glanced back over his shoulder. The gates were sealed tight again.

Suldanessellar was barred to them.

He closed his eyes briefly, accepting it, and then tuned himself to the mighty forest around him.

Here, he was in his element. The ranger in him rose to the fore. As much as he had enjoyed the rare beauty and grace of the tree-top elven city, he found satisfaction in the soft rustling of the leaves, in the clean, fresh scent of rainwater pooling in the dips and glistening on the bracken. The woodlands grew thick and close. Moving easily and instinctually, Kivan listened to every subdued birdcall, every snap of a twig. The forest seemed to hold its breath as they passed beneath the boughs, hushed and still, and then release it again, accepting the travellers with a vague, indistinct curiosity.

Kivan cast his senses wide as the scout led them eastwards. Focusing beyond their immediate surroundings, he expanded his intuition, seeking the discordant note among the stately song of the ancient trees that had jarred him when he had last walked these paths.

Ah, _there_.

The presence had moved since yesterday, tracking up from the south. He could sense its malice as a dark blight from which the forest inhabitants cringed away from. Now that he was concentrating on it, he could feel it moving still; at times slow and unhurried, and then leaping forward in ground-eating bursts. Kivan frowned, deeply worried; whatever it was, its speed was uncanny.

More worryingly, each step along this dim path brought them ever closer to it.

By his side, Rain looked up at him solemnly, perhaps sensing his apprehension. "What is it?" she asked very softly.

Kivan reached his arm around Rain's pack and settled his hand on her far shoulder, drawing her protectively to him. "It is coming closer," he murmured in her ear. "Do not be alarmed yet, for it is still some way off. But it has speed and endurance in its favour. It has travelled a good distance since yesterday."

Rain nodded mutely. She was silent for a time, mulling something over. "It's strange," she finally said, the words reluctant. She gazed at him with his own worry reflected in her eyes. "I can feel…something. It pulls at me."

He looked at her sharply. "What do you sense?"

"I'm not sure." She shook her head uncertainly. "I can't feel it moving as clearly as you can. But it compels me, somehow. _Like_ calling to _like_."

Now he was very concerned. "You are nothing like what I am sensing," he told her grimly. "This creature is evil, _Rosa_. You are not."

She made no response to that. Instead, she fixed her eyes on the scout as he turned quietly ahead of them, gesturing at another trail that intersected with the one they were following.

"This is the path that will take you to the glade of the ancients," he said in elvish, glancing between Kivan and Rain. "It should take you an hour, no more." He dipped his head respectfully, his eyes taking on a speculative gleam as he regarded Rain. "Farewell, sister." He shifted his gaze back to Kivan. "Farewell, brother."

Without waiting for an answer, the scout slipped past them and headed back up the forest trail, the gloom closing around him as he returned to Suldanessellar.

"Well." Jaheira planted the butt of her staff in the mud and leaned against it, considering the new path thoughtfully. "That is that, and the new road beckons." She shifted her almond eyes to Rain. "Shall we travel it, then?"

Anomen hesitated. Torn, he glanced northwards, then balled his hands into fists and faced Rain. "My lady," he said, gazing earnestly into her face. "The time now comes for me to make a decision. On the one hand, I know that duties and obligations await me in Athkatla. On the other, I have this growing certainty that my superiors in the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart would want me to accompany you further on your quest." He gave a short bark of laughter. "_I_ want to accompany you," he said, avoiding Kivan's gaze. "I have this feeling that great events are tied to you, and I very much wish to be a part of them."

Kivan was silent, not conveying his thoughts one way or the other. He would need to tell Rain soon about the conversation he had with the knight by her bedside, while they were both waiting for her to return to her body.

"If it is acceptable to you," the knight said slowly, "then I would like to stay, my lady. You need my skills more than ever now," he added soberly, "with Aerie gone."

The reminder brought gravity back to the group. Imoen dropped her eyes to the saturated ground, melancholy beneath her red velvet hood, and dragged the toe of one scuffed boot through the mud. Rain's brow knotted in a small frown as she glanced at her sister.

"I would be very pleased if you stayed," she said gently to the priest. "You are a dear friend, Anomen, and one of us."

Now, Anomen cautiously met Kivan's eyes, doing him the courtesy of leaving the final decision to him.

Kivan shrugged. He had no intention of hiding his deep love for Rain, but if the younger man thought he could handle seeing them together, then so be it.

He turned away dismissively and took Rain's hand in his own. "Amael," he said softly, intent on keeping a solemn promise that he had made to her. "I can take you to the waterfall first, so you can say your farewells to Aerie before we leave. It will not take us far from our path, and I will find this trail easily again." Seeing the flash of both sorrow and gratitude in her eyes, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it gently. "There are some things that are worth taking our time for," he murmured. "Do not be pressured by others' need for haste."

Rain swallowed painfully. "Lead on, my heart," she said very simply, and moved closely into the arm that he wrapped tenderly around her.


	14. Chapter 14

REFORGED

CHAPTER 14 – HUNTERS: PART I 

In the time that Kivan led Rain down a sodden path that was overhung by dripping branches and masses of green ferns, Kivan stretched his senses out again, dividing his awareness between Rain, who followed quietly a step or two behind him, and the malevolent presence that stalked the lower reaches of the southern forest. There was a ripple of unease amongst the surrounding trees; a disturbed shivering of twigs and branches, a hushed murmuring of restless leaves. There was no breeze to stir them. Under the damp, heavy mist that settled on the woodlands, Kivan could hear the tense strain in the treesong, the faint vibrating echo of what passed in the ancient groves to the south and east of them: that fell presence nosing about, on the scent and on the hunt.

_Searching_.

Kivan set his mouth grimly. Whatever this creature was, its wandering was not aimless. It had covered a lot of ground since yesterday, striking out on a more northerly route. Ellesime had indicated that the wards had been tampered with to the _east_ of Suldanessellar. By his reckoning, that must have been before he walked the woods, or the creature was even faster than he realised. Either way, if the presence was coming back, retracing its steps, then something must be guiding it.

Drawing it unmistakably closer.

With that unsettling thought in his mind, Kivan paused on the path, wondering. He turned and held his arm out to Rain, gently taking her cloaked shoulder in his hand. She glanced up at him questioningly.

Behind them, the others came to an uneasy halt, waiting. Jaheira looked angry enough to chew rocks. As a staunch defender of nature, she would be sensing the forest's agitation as clearly as he was.

"Rain," he murmured, hearing the pensive note in his voice. He looked down into her face intently, recognising the strain about her mouth, her troubled silence. "That sensation you had before, that pulling. Do you still feel it?"

"Yes." She regarded him soberly from beneath her hood. "It is getting stronger," she told him. "I feel it here," she said, touching her breastbone lightly with her fingertips, frowning in concentration. "It is like a knot in my chest that is getting tighter. The tighter it pulls, the more I am _aware_ of that other presence, as though there is a faint thread between us that is becoming more and more tangible. And…"

Rain hesitated, suddenly uncertain.

Sensing her reluctance to speak here, in front of the others, Kivan took one of her chilled hands in his and drew her away a short distance, down to the bend in the path where it curved closer to a stream gurgling not far away, the fast-moving water flowing over any low conversation they might have. He faced her then, lacing his fingers comfortingly through hers.

"What is it, love?" he asked her gently.

There was a brief flicker in her gaze; a flash of gold that lit up her eyes like lightning forking across dark stormy heavens, bright and intense. It was there and gone so quickly that Kivan almost fancied he had imagined it.

_Almost_.

He had glimpsed that luminosity before. Once, when Rain had been sitting up in her bed against the heaped pillows, after he had asked her if Aerie's spirit could truly hold its shape outside Bhaal's realm. Then, Rain had been confident and sure in her answer, an aura of growing knowledge and power emanating from her. It was as though an unseen light had blazed in her being, just beneath the surface of her skin.

Kivan thought of the starfire she had commanded in her sire's plane, of its fearsome might.

He thought of it and noted it, but it brought no thrill of alarm. Rather, it quickened his blood in heated excitement, making desire pound through him once more.

_Rain. My beautiful, shining star_.

She had warned him that essential parts of her had changed. Gazing down into her upturned face, remembering that flash of gold, Kivan knew it to be true. But it didn't faze him in the slightest. Instead, he wondered where his beloved's strange destiny would take them both, what unknowable path they would tread.

Rain considered him gravely. "It is Imoen," she admitted. "I can sense her the same way that I am sensing the faraway presence, though much more strongly. The same thread binds us." She tightened her grip on his hand, willing him to understand. "Blood calls to blood," she said quietly. "Whoever is hunting us is also a Child of Bhaal; I am almost certain of it. And," she added darkly, "they are not seeking us out of any love or sibling affection. They want us dead, and they will do whatever it takes to bring it about." Her blue eyes suddenly narrowed, a hooded flickering in them again. "Or so they think."

A chill settled in Kivan's bones. Grimly, he turned over both Rain's ominous warning and the faint-but-worrying impressions that were filtering back to him from the tense forest, honing his instincts into a keen, razored blade as he sought the menacing presence once more.

It had paused.

Now, it hovered in place. The sense of it was malign but undecided, as though something new had snagged its attention. Suddenly, Kivan had the vivid image of a savage beast lifting its nose and _scenting_ the forest, turning to track an elusive quarry, one that had only just been revealed to it. The hairs prickled at his nape.

Then the creature gathered itself and bounded forward on a new trajectory.

Cutting straight towards _them_.

Sucking in a quick breath, Kivan pulled Rain into his arms reflexively, every protective instinct clamouring shrilly inside him.

At the same time, she stiffened. Tensing, every line of her fierce and focused, she turned her head in the direction of the strange beast. Then she let out a small, soft sigh and pressed her cheek to his damp cloak, sliding her arms around his waist beneath his pack.

"They know we are here," she said after a moment, sounding eerily calm and certain.

Kivan nodded in dire agreement. "Are you sure it is one of your siblings?" he asked uncertainly, assessing her grim expression as she pulled back to look at him. "I have the sense of a beast, _Rosa_; not a man or woman, no matter how evil their intentions."

Rain gave a slight shake of her head. "I am sure," she murmured.

"Hmm." Kivan frowned. "Perhaps there is more than one of them," he suggested, mulling it over. The creature; or Rain's vicious sibling, as she thought, was still out of range, behind the wards. His awareness of it would expand and sharpen as they drew closer to it, and he would learn more of its nature. "Or, it is something with a bestial power that we have not yet encountered in your brethren, something akin to…"

_To the Slayer_.

Kivan blanched. Swiftly, he strangled the words in his throat before he could utter them, desperately hoping that Rain would not sense the direction of his thoughts.

But she did. She knew.

Steadily, she met his eyes. To his lasting relief, there was no hurt or anger or sadness there, just a measure of the same grim calmness that she had exhibited before.

"Something like what I became when I melded with the Slayer," she finished for him, her tone even.

Kivan nodded reluctantly. "Yes," he agreed. Gently, tenderly, he lifted his hands to her face and slid them beneath her hood, framing her beautiful, sharp features. He drank her in with hungry eyes, his heart aching. "Rain," he said earnestly, feeling something like a vow forming on the very tip of his tongue. "Amael. I _love_ you. And I swear that I will not let anything happen to you." His voice broke, dropping to a harsh, broken whisper. "I will_ not_."

As his words fell between them, taut with the vulnerable strains of a promise, Kivan had a sudden, gut-twisting fear that he may not be worthy to make such a pledge. He had failed Deheriana bitterly, and he had failed himself.

But looking down at Rain, seeing the sweet, poignant flare of love in her eyes, he knew his intuition was right. His _words_ were right.

And he would fight tooth and nail to keep her safe.

He was much stronger now. Far more skilled with bow, knife and sword than he had been when captured by Tazok. He was an archer of deadly talent. And, at his very core, he was a hunter, able to sense his quarry as keenly as the predator now scything its way through the lower woodlands towards them.

He could track, and he could hunt. Most importantly, he could _kill_.

Rain gazed up at him with fierce intensity, that wild, primal lightning in her eyes again. The golds flared. The hunter in _her_ stoked the hunter in _him_, both of them rising to meet the other. Mesmerised, Kivan stared down at her, caught.

She covered his hands with her own and stepped in close, raising her mouth to his. He kissed her, hard. He ignored the fine drizzle falling around them both, instead moving his mouth hungrily over hers, coaxing her lips apart in an urgent, fervent caress. Rain responded eagerly. She slid her hands from his and cupped the angled planes of his face, kissing him deeply.

"I know," she whispered against his lips, slowing their kiss only long enough to acknowledge his ardent promise. "I _know_."

xxxx xxxx

The waterfall was a veil of foaming, silvered water that splashed down a ridge dividing the higher elevations around Suldanessellar from the lower stretches of the vast forest. If Kivan was not mistaken, the scout's trail would take them down into those tree-shadowed dales, where only the chosen few trod the path to the glade of the ancestors. Here, in this high place, the waterfall fell with a dull, musical roar, fed by the stream swollen by the day's long rains. The drizzle had finally stopped. Though it was barely edging towards late-afternoon, it was preternaturally dim beneath the heavy sky. Trailing wisps of cloud drifted close, lowering to envelope both the ridge and the companions in a thickening white fog. The air was damp on Kivan's face and skin; the upper forest blanketed in a thick, subdued silence.

Slipping her arms out of her pack, Rain set down the heavy burden and touched his shoulder briefly, exchanging with him a grave, significant glance. Her lips curved in a tiny smile, reassuring him. Then she pushed back her hood and cautiously moved the few feet over the slick stone to the cliff edge, close enough that she could view the tumbling waterfall where Aerie's ashes were scattered, but not so close that he feared she might slip.

She was quiet for a time, unmoving. The clouds wreathed her grey-cloaked figure in mist.

Watching her, Kivan was suddenly conscious of the _stillness_ in her, a calmness that reminded him of the mirrored surface of a pool. But underneath, there was an intensity about her that was hard to fathom. A deep well of power yet to be drawn upon. Or the tense, crackling excitement in the air that comes when a wild summer storm rolls in, just as it is about to break.

He thought of the lightning in her eyes. Of the starfire she had called. He _wondered_.

Ruminating, he pulled his longbow over his head and set down his pack, rolling his shoulders briefly to work out the tight knots. The creature in the expanse of forest below the ridge was pacing restlessly now, frustrated. It flickered back and forth along the boundary of the old wards. Focused on it, he could feel its savage fury radiating through the agitated trees, in the birds that were wheeling up from the lower woodlands, unseen in the heavy mist but shrieking cries of warning.

Right now, the beast was held at bay, barred by the ancient elven protections. But for how long? Kivan couldn't know. All he could do was be ready when it _did_ break through, and be like lightning himself, striking out with lethal force to defend his beloved.

Considering Rain again, he idly folded his arms around his tall bow and clasped it loosely, saying nothing as Jaheira joined him, as silent and thoughtful as he was. She leaned on her staff for a time, apparently content to contemplate Rain as he was doing.

Then: "She has come a long way since Khalid and I first found her," she observed, a warm fondness in her voice as she mentioned her husband. "Little more than a frightened girl with only her torn clothes on her back, and a knife in her belt. She must have grown up quickly the night Gorion died."

Jaheira switched her gaze to Imoen, who had edged forward and was now sharing a companionable silence with her half-sister.

The pair of them had seemed so incongruous when Kivan first met them; the cheerful, sly-fingered little human thief, and the slight girl whom Imoen called sister, a young elven maiden with a strange power in her blood, and a gritty determination to fight on, no matter the forces arrayed against them.

To withstand her many enemies.

Soon enough, Kivan had seen how well they complemented one another. And neither of them was fragile. Kivan knew for himself how many scars Rain bore, how many horrors she had endured. And Imoen was well on the way to becoming a mage of powerful, intuitive talent, voracious in her learning.

Near the ledge, Imoen shifted closer to Rain. It was a movement that was both sisterly and instinctive, making Kivan think of the invisible blood-bond between them.

The same bond that might be luring their enemies even now.

For a moment, the mists swirled in close. The dense clouds veiled the siblings from sight, making Kivan's pulse quicken in worry. But then the clouds drifted apart once more, revealing the scarlet hue of Imoen's cloak, the ripple of bight fire that was Rain's plaited hair. There was a sudden air of indecipherable mystery about them both, as though neither of them could be completely knowable. A puzzle to be solved piece by piece.

Strangely enough, it made him smile, a tiny flickering about his mouth.

There would be something new to discover each day. Some marvellous new thing; whether it was simply the way Rain looked at him, her eyes so soft and dark but intense as he made love to her. Or some new gift or power, like her starfire, the inner light that seemed to pulse in her being. The lightning in her eyes. The tender passion in her touch as she leaned in close to kiss him, her fingers twining in his hair.

Yes, it was going to be a _thoroughly_ enjoyable journey, learning everything there was to know about her; his fey, lovely Rain.

"They both have," the druid added, interrupting Kivan's wandering thoughts.

He made a small noise of agreement. "When I first met Rain," he said musingly, "I saw that resilience in her, her untapped strength. She just hadn't yet come into her own."

But she had.

Oh, by the Lady of Dreams, she _had_. And the woman she was now stole the very breath from his lungs, fired the blood in his veins.

"True," Jaheira agreed complacently. "But I do not think we need to worry about that now. We both saw what she did in her sire's plane. And if she is right, Aerie lives yet, though not in a way that any of us could imagine."

Intrigued, Anomen shifted closer to them, listening intently. He was solemn as he regarded them both. "This strange destiny of theirs," he said, flickering a grave glance in Rain and Imoen's direction. "Does it worry either of you? About what might come?"

"Worry me?" Jaheira regarded the priest thoughtfully. "No. No, it does not worry me. I accepted my fate when Khalid and I agreed to stay on, after we learned what foul blood flows in Rain's veins. _But_," she continued, "I do wonder about how they will serve the balance. What role they will play in the bloodshed to come." Her brow creased, her honeyed brows drawing together. "Somehow, I have a certainty that Khalid and I were placed with them for a reason. To give both guidance and wisdom." Her voice fell to a distant, faraway whisper. "But what now, Khalid of my heart? When do I let go, and let them seize their destiny with both hands?"

With that uncomfortable thought, Jaheira lapsed back into silence, pressing her smooth cheek into her staff.

Anomen nodded thoughtfully. "And you?" he questioned, turning his dark eyes on Kivan.

He hesitated a moment, brooding. His faith in Rain was implicit, a treasured trust between them that was deep and abiding. But neither of them knew what awaited her as Gorion's ward, focus of a terrible prophecy. Nor what awaited them in Tethyr, if indeed that was where they must go.

They would deal with the intruder behind the wards and see. See where her destiny led them.

"I…worry for them both, yes," he admitted. He watched Rain, his expression softening beneath his overhanging hood, his mouth gentling. "I worry about what burdens Rain's destiny will lay on her shoulders. What grim, momentous deeds will be expected of her. There will be more bloodshed," he said, agreeing with Jaheira, "and more fighting. Such is the endless nature of our world." He lifted his head in quiet resolution, firm in his choice. "But she will not walk that path alone. I will be with her, every step of the way. _Wherever_ it might lead."

The knight nodded again, reflective, but then deflected the conversation before he could be questioned in turn. "This damned cloud is a nuisance," he muttered, scowling at the drifting white vapour. "Soon, I won't be able to see anything."

Kivan sighed, but the young man had a point. He and Imoen would be awkward on the trails once the murk deepened, the humans lacking the clear, elven sight of their companions.

"We might be best served by making camp early," Kivan remarked. "If the thing that hunts us breaks through the wards," he added, "then I want the ridge between us and it, so we have plenty of time to prepare ourselves."

Out in the mist, in the drifting white cloud, Rain tilted her head towards him, poised and alert. She seemed to _tense_. With a powerful clench of desire, Kivan thought of the tent they would share for the first time tonight, of what it now meant for them to be _together_. Rain swayed towards him, ever so slightly. Instantly, Kivan had the sense that she _knew_ the direction of his thoughts, that she was as intimately attuned to him as he was to her, each keenly aware of the other. It did urgent, chaotic things to his insides. Aching with need, Kivan forced his feverish blood back to a simmer, keeping himself in check.

He swallowed with difficulty. When he spoke, he made sure his voice was calm and level, with no hint of his thoughts. "I will find us somewhere to camp."

Shouldering his pack, he went to Rain, every part of him _focused_ on her. She turned to him lightly, the mist fraying about her feet. Despite Imoen's presence, he cradled Rain's face in his free hand and kissed her softly, his mouth feather-light, his caress lingering. For one heady moment, it seemed the world might stop. There was only her and him, the clouds thick and close, the waterfall a muffled, cascading song.

Then Imoen coughed deliberately.

Startled, Kivan lifted his head and gave Rain a rueful smile, seeing the warm, tender light in her eyes.

"Wow, you really aren't wasting any more time, are you," Imoen observed, somewhat bemused. She shook her head, her brow furrowing as she glanced between Rain and himself. "I'm still trying to get used to the idea of _you_ being romantic," she said, eyeing Kivan doubtfully. "You, 'Mister I'm so stern and serious'."

Surprisingly, that made him laugh. He pulled Rain close and kissed her brow affectionately. "Get used to it," he told Imoen, a tiny, playful smile dancing about his mouth.

Rain leaned into him, her arm tight around his narrow waist. But her smile slowly faded. Sobering, she returned to the matter at hand; the reason why they were here, by the waterfall.

"I am glad that you chose this place to bring Aerie's ashes," she said quietly, a wistful note in her tone. "It is so beautiful. A perfect place for an avariel to spread her wings; high and wild and free. Aerie would have liked it here, of that I am certain." She sighed. "I hope we see her again. Somewhere, somehow…" Her voice trailed off, her eyes turning distant.

By now, Kivan was beginning to think anything was possible. He had seen too many strange, incredible things to dismiss it. "Perhaps we will," he said, musing.

Rain looked up at him, her face grave, the mist beading on her eyelashes and skin. "When we return to Athkatla, we need to seek out Quayle," she said. Her brow knotted in apprehension. "But how do you console someone who has lost a near-daughter?" she asked softly. "How do you explain that while her body is ash, scattered over a waterfall, her spirit is still _real,_ tangible and free?"

Kivan pondered it a moment. He lifted his hand to her nape and caressed her lightly. Then he absently ran her braided hair through his fingers, tugging on it gently, savouring its silken texture. "Just like that," he finally said, and there was no better truth he could offer her.

xxxx xxxx

They gathered together on the trail beneath the rain-laden branches. The stream rushed past them, hurtling over the cliff-edge. With a small, tender smile, Kivan lifted Rain's hand and kissed it, silently apologising for needing to leave her. Then he slipped away into the trees, his bow in his hand, and scouted the forest for somewhere suitable to camp.

Soon enough, he came upon a small clearing created by the demise of one of the ancient trees, fallen to the forest floor. Creeping vines coiled about its neighbours, drooping from the branches in a thick, ropy net. He brushed past them, lightly, and considered the open space. There was enough room for them to raise at least three of their tents.

It would do.

Swiftly, silently, he went back for the others. He allowed himself a small flicker of a smile as Anomen cursed at his sudden reappearance, materialising out of the dim fog right beside him on the darkening path, startling him.

"_Must_ you do that?" the knight demanded, irritated.

Kivan didn't reply. Instead, he sought Rain, a glitter of quiet mirth in his eyes.

Together, they began their preparations in the small clearing, going about the first of the evening's tasks with practised efficiency.

Imoen rubbed her hands together briskly, looking hopeful. "Right, a fire, then?" she suggested, glancing around plaintively at them. "If anyone can get a fire going on wet tinder, then it is me," she declared. "One snap of my fingers, and the wood will be alight in no time."

Frighteningly enough, she was probably right. The mage had a fearsome talent for summoning small blazes. Judging by the overheard snatches of an animated discussion she had once had with Rain and Aerie, Kivan was right to be dismayed: they had been debating the prospect of pulling meteors from the very sky and sending them crashing to the ground, Imoen's eyes bright with excitement as she gestured wildly. He shuddered at the thought of Imoen, cheeky, carefree _Imoen_, wielding so much power.

Rain glanced up from where she was unfurling a light canvas groundsheet, perfectly balanced on her heels. She spread it over the saturated ground. "A fire _would_ be nice," she murmured.

Kivan frowned uncertainly. "It will give off a lot of smoke," he warned, his worry sharpening. "If the wards fail, our pursuer will know exactly where to find us."

She rose smoothly, coming to him with easy grace. Rising onto her toes, she gave him a sweet, fond kiss, brushing her mouth lightly over his. "They already know where we are," she reminded him gently, making his heart twist at the resignation in her tone. "Nothing we can do will change that."

He sighed heavily and wrapped his arms around her, resting his brow on hers. Rain was warm and close, her breath mingling with his. "Amael," he said very softly, sorrowing. "Would that I _could _change it."

She stroked the side of his face with her fingertips, then toyed with one of his curls, setting off a sharp twinge in his heart. "I know, beloved," she whispered.

The five of them scavenged the clearing for fallen twigs and branches, piling them on one corner of the groundsheet. Going to his heels, Kivan arranged the deadfall in a pattern within a ring of shielding stones, allowing the damp tinder as much air as possible. Then he rose and went to Rain. He padded up behind her and slid his arms around her, drawing her cosily back to his chest. She sighed with pleasure, relaxing into him. Kivan smiled into her hair. Content, he rested his chin on her shoulder and watched as Imoen began her incantation, gesturing at the wood for _fire_.

Flames leaped up, fierce and intense. Crackling with sudden heat, they sent moisture spitting and hissing from the bark. A plume of acrid smoke wreathed up, thick and smarting beneath the low, dense fog. Despite his worries, Kivan found himself mellowing in the warm firelight, drawing comfort from both Rain and the twisting, dancing flames.

She was in his arms, and it was _good_.

Imoen eyed her fire triumphantly, a smug smile on her lips. "See? I told you so." She shifted suddenly, her expression turning furtive. "Sooo," she said, doing a very unconvincing job of looking entirely innocent. "Since I started the fire, I suppose that means I don't have to cook? I mean, surely it is _Jaheira's_ turn now, and –"

The druid snorted, putting a premature end to Imoen's wheedling. "Don't count on it, child." She jerked her head at the base of a tree where brown mushrooms grew in the leaf litter, thriving in the rich damp. "Start gathering. _If_ you are lucky, I might help you by fetching water for the cauldron."

Imoen sighed. "Oh, alright," she muttered under her breath. Making a hollow in her cloak, she stooped and plucked at the mushrooms, carrying them in the bundled red velvet.

Rain turned in Kivan's arms. Giving him a very soft, private smile that made his pulse speed up, she gazed at him, a question in her shadowed eyes. The firelight glowed behind her, flickering crimson on her hair, on the graceful points of her ears. "Shall we set up the tents?" she asked him softly.

Immediately, his blood _burned_. The fever in his veins, dampened out of necessity to a slow, insistent smoulder, _leaped _in him, scorching his insides. Kivan shuddered. Starving for her, he clenched his fingers in the wool of her cloak, right there at the small of her back. Then, his breathing quickening, he let go and parted the folds of her cloak, slowly and deliberately, just as he had earlier in the afternoon. Rain's breath caught. She clutched at his shoulders as, keeping her cloak parted, Kivan pulled her firmly against him, pressing her ebony leathers to the length of him. Her sword-hilts dug into his hips through his cloak; his own scabbards pressed into her.

_Oh, sweet Hanali_.

Kivan swallowed thickly. Feeling his remaining willpower rapidly draining away, he bent his head to Rain's ear and nipped at it, rewarded by her sudden fit of violent trembling. "Yes, amael," he breathed. "I think we definitely should."

Rain breathing was very uneven. "Oh, good," she whispered, her fingers still clenched in his cloak.

After that, it was _very_ difficult to ignore thoughts of Rain sharing his bedroll. With Anomen's help, they unrolled three of the small tents the party carried and staked the canvases, driving the wooden pegs deep into the wet loam. Then they secured the rope lines. Kivan rose from the groundsheet where he had left his pack and closed on Rain, his eyes intent and glittering.

"Would my lady care to give me her bedroll?" he whispered in her ear, sliding his free arm around her waist.

Rain shivered. "She would," she agreed, turning her face into his. She brushed her mouth over his jaw lightly, making his breath catch, quick and sharp.

Behind them, Jaheira cleared her throat. She handed the cauldron to Imoen, now filled with water from the stream, and regarded Rain and Kivan a long moment, her eyes unreadable. Then she crossed her arms over her breasts and considered Rain carefully.

Staring back at her, Kivan had a sudden, unsettling apprehension that whatever the woman was thinking about, he probably _didn't_ want to know what it was.

"Rain," the druid said then, sounding far too smooth and sure of herself for Kivan's liking. There was a honeyed note in her tone that instantly made him suspicious. "Come with me to the stream," she suggested, though whenever Jaheira made a _suggestion_, it was always an order. "We will wash, yes? It has been too long since we simply talked to one another, woman to woman. So gather your things, and let's go."

Rain paused. She slanted Kivan a quick, uneasy look, but then acceded gracefully. "Of course," she said.

Before she left, Rain handed him her bedroll and blankets, giving him a wry smile. He stroked her hair soothingly, leaning forward to gently kiss her brow. "Whatever it is," he murmured, "don't let her harangue you."

Despite herself, Rain laughed. "Whatever it is, I am sure it involves _you_, and she will speak her mind anyway." She stepped back, a sudden glint of mischief in her eyes. "Wish me luck."

Smiling at him, she shouldered her pack and joined Jaheira, ducking beneath the vines and disappearing into the fog. Kivan stared after them a moment, bemused. Then he shook his head. Carrying Rain's bedding, he selected a tent and performed the joyous task of spreading her bedroll beside his, sharing out their blankets. Love sang in him, bright and keen. He thought of their star bower, of the beauty and pleasure they had brought one another. Of the candlelight gleaming on Rain's bare skin. He thought of what it had felt like to have her in his arms, to _make love_ to her.

Distracted, Kivan shook his head once more. A restless desire hummed in him.

Taking his longbow, he slipped out into the heavy mist, on the hunt. His footfalls were silent on the ground. He flushed a nesting pair of pheasants almost immediately, but passed them over. Instead, he made himself still and quiet, a wraith in the moving mists. Soon, there was a flicker of brown movement, a shadow moving out of a dense thicket of brambles. He waited as the hare emerged. It was a large male, long ears flitting back and forth, velvet nose twitching. Utterly silent, Kivan nocked an arrow to the bowstring and pulled it back in one fluid movement, his loosed arrow slicing through the fog. It took the hare cleanly through one of its glistening black eyes, killing it instantly.

Satisfied, Kivan shouldered his bow and retrieved his kill. He laid the hare on a flat rock and pulled his long knife. Deftly, he skinned and gutted the animal, wiping his blade clean on the wet grass.

When he returned to the camp, there was still no sign of Rain and Jaheira. He was not overly worried, for his own scouting had revealed a peaceful forest; as peaceful as it _could_ be, with the snarling creature still held at bay by the wards. He wondered just what evil _thing_ it was. The trees in the woodlands were as agitated as they had been before, hissing and swaying beneath the fog.

Imoen barely stirred at his approach, more interested in reading a book than tending the stew, which was beginning to simmer. Kivan glanced at the small tome with mild curiosity; it looked like the same book she had been reading earlier, in the city.

"What are you reading?" he asked. He squatted beside her on the light groundsheet, leaving her the hare to prepare for the stew.

Imoen flashed him a quick, sly grin. "Funny you should ask that. It's an elvish romance, but translated into Common. I thought it was appropriate in the circumstances, since…you know." She shrugged, her grin widening.

Kivan sent her a wary look. "Did you _take_ that from Suldanessellar?"

"_Hey_!" she protested, indignant.

Which meant that _yes_, she had.

"I'm…borrowing it for a while, that's all. They won't miss it." The set of her mouth turned a trifle petulant. "Besides, I'm one of the valiant saviours of the Tree of Life. They _owe_ me."

Across the fire, sitting on another groundsheet, Anomen looked up from the scarlet breastplate of his dragon armour, spread across his knees as he buffed the scales. He regarded Imoen sternly. "Theft, my lady, is not a fitting exercise for a young woman. You should try to restrain such tendencies, and work on discipline instead."

"Oh?" She cocked her head at him, raising an imperious brow. "How else do you think we get past locked doors, Sir Knight?" Sighing, Imoen shook her head as though the man was daft, and then turned her eyes on Kivan again. They narrowed, a wicked glint in them. "Hey Kiv," she said innocently, shifting the conversation from her _thieving_ back onto him. "Do you want to borrow my book sometime? It might give you some pointers in the, ah, _romance_ department."

He spluttered, shooting her an irritated look. Imoen laughed at him. "I don't _need_ any pointers," he muttered stiffly.

She smiled brightly. "Just putting it out there, that's all."

Gracefully, Kivan decided to retreat before the girl could tease him any further. Turning away, he unpinned his cloak and unbuckled his sword belt, laying them carefully on the canvas. Then he unfastened his shadow dragon scale. His thoughts wandered to Rain's new leathers again. Not for the first time today, he wondered how nimbly he would be able to get her out of them.

The thought made him restless again, his desire a constant pulsing in his blood. He shrugged back into his cloak and began to pace the camp's perimeter. He stared out into the fog, his senses sharp and alert, but he still had no impression of danger.

Not _here_, anyway.

If it was taking this long, then Rain's and Jaheira's talk, _woman to woman_, must be very pointed indeed. He wondered how Rain was bearing up.

At last, the women returned. Kivan heard the druid's low voice drifting through the heavy fog. He went to meet them, giving Rain a warm, glad smile as she took the hand he offered her, her fingers cold and shivering in his. He took her pack and slung it over his shoulder, then drew her into the crook of his arm. She stepped in close, seeking his warmth.

"You were gone a long time," he commented, realising just how cold Rain was. Her face was pale, her lips blue. But as the remark left his mouth, she _blushed_, heat staining her cheeks.

"Yes, we had much to discuss," Jaheira agreed serenely. She gave Rain a sideways look, enjoying her apparent discomfort. "Would you care to tell him what we were talking about?" she asked with deceptive mildness. "After all, it is _his_ business as much as yours. If you are going to indulge in bed-play then –"

"_Jaheira_!" Rain flushed scarlet. Swiftly, she hid her face in Kivan's cloak, mortified.

" – you must accept the consequences," the druid concluded, undaunted. She smirked at Kivan, very pleased with the results of her lecture: Kivan's flush was as bright as Rain's, crimson rising to his very ear-tips.

"Oh," was all he could manage, very weakly. He hugged Rain closer.

"_Oh_," Jaheira repeated, more sternly now. She eyed him critically, about to launch into another lecture. "Really, Kivan, you should have thought of this yourself. If Rain falls –"

"_Thank you_, Jaheira." Quickly, he tugged Rain along with him, every instinct telling him to flee before the druid could humiliate them further. Behind them, he heard Jaheira's loud snicker.

Rain grinned suddenly, laughing at her embarrassment. "So, that was our 'mother-daughter' discussion," she said dryly. "Remind me to avoid another one at all cost."

He grinned in return, now more amused than anything. "What did she give you?"

"A pouch of herbs." She faltered suddenly, stumbling a little. Kivan glanced down at her in concern. She tried to recover herself, but not before he saw a flash of pure terror in her eyes, the horror of a remembered nightmare.

And then he, too, remembered.

The one time that he had seen Jaheira give Rain a small leather pouch of herbs, it had been after they escaped Irenicus' dungeon, on his first day back with them. Then, Rain had been broken, a shadow of herself. She had tried to salvage what remained, tried to keep her chin high, her back straight. But she was broken all the same. And then he had realised. His own heart had broken that day, discovering just what brutality she had been subjected to.

He pulled her to an abrupt stop. "_Rain_." He whispered her name against her chill brow, husky with love and sorrow. Embracing her tightly, he wrapped his arms around her slender shoulders. "Dear one. If I ever remind you of –"

"_No_." She said it sharply. Lifting her cold hand, she set one finger against his lips, silencing him. "He has nothing to do with you and I. _Nothing_. That is in the past, and that is where it is going to stay."

Kivan's heart lurched. She had so much courage, his beautiful Rain. And he loved her _oh_ so very fiercely for it. "I hear you, valiant one," he whispered against her finger. He kissed it, and then her cool palm. She sighed, leaning into him once more. "I adore you, Rain. And it is going to make _me_ so very happy to bring you the same joy."

xxxx xxxx

He guided her back to the fire then, settling her down before him on the canvas. He stretched his legs either side of her and simply cradled her against his chest, rocking her slowly, very gently. He kissed her ear lingeringly. In his arms, Rain began to warm. She made a soft sound of contentment.

The evening wore on. The five of them ate together companionably, finishing their tasks. Anomen rose and warded the camp, inscribing white, fiery glyphs on the tree trunks. Soon, he retired. Imoen read her book, sprawled on her stomach by the campfire.

Kivan hooded his expression. Biding his time, shrouded in his cloak, he brought his mouth against the soft line of Rain's throat, against her loose, fire-warmed hair. He said nothing. Instead, he let his thoughts drift.

They drifted to the taste of Rain's skin when she was lying beneath him, the feel of her mouth on his.

They drifted to their tent, the one they would be sharing soon, very soon.

_Patience_.

He let his eyes go unfocused. Now, the heat was pooling within him, coiling low and tight. His anticipation grew; each beat of his heart made him more strongly aware of Rain, each breath he drew deep into his lungs scented with _her_.

He _stilled_.

Outside, he was calm and quiet, motionless. But inside, his desire was beginning to run loose of its restraints, thick and undeniable and very, very primal. His yearning _grew_.

In his arms, Rain turned her head towards him. She seemed attentive and poised, as though sensing what lay just beneath the surface of him, what simmered in the wild current of his blood. He set his mouth to her ear. He breathed on it, very softly.

She trembled.

A wild exhilaration began to pound in his veins. Suddenly, he thought of how he had likened her to a summer storm, charged with lightning. _He_ was that storm, about to break.

He couldn't wait any longer. "Come with me, evening star."

Reaching for her hand, he laced his fingers through hers and gently drew her upright. Rain stood gracefully and followed him. She looked into his eyes, her own soft and deep and dark, just as he remembered. She smiled very slightly; shy and tender and warm with a _woman's_ need.

His own longing clenched in him, _hard_.

In their tent, facing one another in the shadows, the firelight dancing on the outer walls, Kivan went to his knees before her and gazed at her solemnly. "Rain," he whispered. "My beloved." Gently, he lifted his hand to her face and brushed a tendril of hair from her cheek, seeing her answering smile, her sweet response. She took his hand in her own and kissed his scarred knuckles.

He tilted his head to one side, enthralled by her. His mouth went soft. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?" he asked her, awed. "Come to me, bright star."

She did.

_Oh_, she did.

How it began, and which of them started it, he wasn't quite sure. But all at once, they were each as fevered as the other, driven by the intensity of their passion. Kivan unlaced her boots and drew them off, pausing to seize her mouth, to rain kisses down her throat. She shuddered and clasped her hands behind his neck. Grinding herself into him, she used her sharp teeth on his jaw, grazing him lightly as he had done to her, this morning in their bower. He let out a low groan, his blood raging.

Somehow, he had that lovely, enticing black leather off her, peeling it down her legs. Rain dragged his tunic up over his head. Gently, tentatively, she began to explore his chest, running her fingers over his scars, and then using the very tip of her tongue.

Kivan _groaned_. Urgently now, his breath short and harsh in his throat, he stripped away her underclothes and sat back on his heels, gazing at her with dark, wanting eyes. He forced himself to slow. "Beautiful, just as I said," he rasped.

Rain stared back at him. She shivered suddenly, tiny bumps breaking out on her skin. With a start, Kivan realised how cold it was in the tent. Taken by whimsy, he shook out his cloak and settled it warmly on her shoulders, enfolding her in his heat, in his essence.

All without touching her.

She sat there in the firelit shadows veiled from him, her lovely body hidden from sight. She was very still, waiting.

His eyes drank in hers. Slowly, never taking his rapt gaze from her face, he lifted his hand and _slid_ it beneath his cloak, making her inhale sharply. The pulse fluttered wildly at her throat. Then, with aching, raw tenderness, he touched her, brushing his fingertips, calloused from his bow, over her warm skin.

Rain gasped. She leaned into him as he found her breast, her breathing quick and ragged. Her soft sounds turned to whimpers, to tiny little moans. "Oh," she whispered, her eyes tightly shut. "Kivan, _please_. I want, I need…"

That undid him. Swiftly, he brought her hand to his breeches and helped her unlace him. The feel of her fingers, so close to him, made his body strain. Tearing his breeches off, ruthless, he stretched back down on their bedrolls and invited her to him. "Lie with me, fairest."

But Rain had other ideas first.

Apparently, she had been _quite_ intrigued by the lovemaking he had begun to show her this morning, when they had been interrupted so untimely. She straddled his hips and looked down at him, gazing at him intently.

Then slowly, _slowly_, she lowered his cloak from her lean shoulders. The green wool fell away, sliding to her thighs, pooling leisurely and raggedly over his legs. The firelight was copper on her naked skin, molten and reflective in her deep, sea eyes.

"Amael," he grated, lifting his hands to her bare back, digging his nails into her buttocks. "Are you sure…?"

She was sure.

Rain lowered herself onto him. A cry that was so soft, yet so sharp and _elemental_, escaped from her lips. Kivan gasped, overcome by love and desire, by the perfect vision of her rising above him, bathed in copper, rhythmic as the ocean tide.

He tried to rein himself back. He did for as long as he could. But then he couldn't constrain himself anymore, and he flipped her beneath him. The rest was a delirious, coppery blur, Rain moving beneath him, her sunset hair spread over his bedroll. She was quick and hot as lightning. She matched his pace, urging him on. And when their storm finally claimed him, throwing his head back in pure bliss, she shuddered all around him, burying her whimper in his shoulder.

Slowly, he drifted back down. He melted into her, utterly content. Rain sighed and held him tenderly, giving him a sweet, languid smile. He lifted his hand to her cheek and stroked her skin lightly, amazed by her. Then he bent his mouth to hers.

"I love you, Rain," he whispered, his heart soaring. "So very much."

She swallowed tightly. Something in her eyes, so soft and warm in the aftermath of their pleasure, seemed to dim, as though clouds scudded over the face of the sun. She was silent a moment. "I never expected to hear those words from you," she finally admitted, hesitant. Pensively, she dropped her gaze from his, suddenly fascinated by the falcon pendant now lying on her breast, dangling from the cord around his neck. "I have loved you for so long, but I didn't –"

"Shh, shh." Kivan brushed his lips back and forth over hers, soothing her unusual, but very understandable vulnerability. "I know, my heart. But I am here now. And I am _not_ leaving you."

With those words, he settled himself by her side and cradled her to him, pulling their blankets up to their shoulders. Rain murmured softly and eased back into him.

"Rest now, evenstar," he whispered in her ear. "Tomorrow, we find out just what the ancestors know about your destiny. _Then_," he said, his voice taking on a grim, implacable tone, "we hunt this sibling of yours. The one that thinks that _it_ can defeat _you_."


	15. Chapter 15

REFORGED

CHAPTER 15 – HUNTERS: PART II 

Kivan roused himself in the small hours of the night, when the forest was hushed and still, the darkness pervasive. Over many years, he had trained his body to waken when required, the essential skill of a woodsman and guardian. Outside the tent, the fire smouldered, burning low. He listened intently. The hiss of the flames came to him; the restless footfalls of Anomen's boots on the fallen leaves and grass, the man impatient to return to his bed.

He sighed, torn between drowsy contentment at having Rain in his arms, her back cradled intimately against him and his arm flung over hers, and great reluctance at having to leave her. She was warm and close, her bare skin delicious on his. But he had elected to take this watch; this dark time in the night when the shadows seemed to gather and deepen, when the forest's natural predators slunk back to their dens: the wolves and big cats, the feral dogs. The owls were returning from their nocturnal hunting, swooping low through the gloom, coming to roost in the trees near the camp.

It was a time when sentries often became complacent and sluggish, letting down their guard.

Not Kivan.

Burrowing into Rain, he tightened his embrace, wanting to enjoy her a little longer. He nuzzled her hair, the silky, firelit locks tickling his nose and skin. She stirred sleepily and wakened. He smiled as she made a soft, dreamy sound and pressed herself into him, her hand slipping out from beneath their nest of blankets to rest on his shoulder.

"Amael," he whispered in her ear. He kissed her there, softly, and brought his hand to the slender curve of her hip, caressing her gently. "I love waking up next to you."

Rain sighed happily and rolled onto her side to face him. Her lovely face was soft with sleep, her answering smile warm and drowsy. "I feel the same way about you," she whispered back, nestling closer to him. She lifted her mouth for his tender kiss, parting her lips as he teased them open and searched her languidly, his tongue meeting hers. At length, he drew back, giving her a regretful smile.

"Unfortunately," he said softly, "it is time for me to rise. Though I would much rather stay here with you."

She smiled at him gently. "Would you like some company? I could stand watch with you."

It was a very appealing offer. But looking at her, Kivan recognised a weariness in her that Rain's reverie had not eased, and he was sharply reminded that only a couple of days ago, she had lain as though dead. Moved, his heart constricting, he lifted his hand to her face and gently stroked her cheek, then tucked a stray russet lock behind her ear.

"Very tempting, my love," he whispered, raw affection in his voice. "But no. You need your rest. Stay here, fairest, and dream." He smiled, taken by a new thought. "Perhaps _I_ will keep _you_ company on your next watch."

She laughed quietly and watched as he slipped from their bed, curling on her side and resting her cheek on her hand. Kivan smiled and tucked their blankets warmly around her. He dressed in the copper shadows, the air cool and biting on his skin. When his ebony armour was buckled in place, his knife and sword belted at his hip, he leaned over her and gave Rain a gentle parting kiss.

"Rest, cor'amin," he whispered. "I will see you at dawn."

He emerged from their tent with his longbow and quiver, his breath misting in the bitter air. The cloud had passed on during the night. Now the moon, concealed from his eyes by the high canopy of the forest, gilded the leaves in silver, falling upon the tents. Stars glinted high above the clearing, cold and bright. The fog settled on the damp ground, wisping into moist, ghostly vapours as Kivan padded across the camp to the fire.

Anomen turned to him, huddled deep within his cloak. He gripped his war hammer in a cold hand.

"Anomen." Kivan greeted him politely, his expression neutral.

The man nodded. He stirred uneasily, shooting Kivan an odd, discomforted look.

Going to his knees before the fire, Kivan laid aside his quiver and bow and stoked the coals, wondering why the priest hadn't yet left for his tent. "Is something amiss?" he finally asked, raising a pointed, jet brow at him.

Anomen shifted awkwardly. "Ah… No," he said, carefully. "Nothing is amiss." He stamped his feet a little, rolling his stiff shoulders and moving restively, his breath pluming. "It is just… I have had plenty of time to think, that is all." He swept his hand out towards the moonlit darkness absently, where the firelight drifted into shadow. "The night watch is long," he added slowly, as though choosing his words with care.

"Yes." Kivan sat back on his heels and considered the knight gravely. "Yes, it is." He waited, sensing that whatever was weighing on Anomen's mind, it was solemn indeed.

The young man sighed. He glanced away from Kivan, unsettled, and ran his hand through his hair. Then he opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated. He sighed again, heavily. "She is happy," he finally said, dredging up the words. "Isn't she."

Kivan stilled. "Yes," he agreed softly. "She is." _And so am I_, he thought, but he kept that private joy to himself.

Anomen nodded. He firmed his mouth, squared his shoulders, and jerked his head again, very curtly. "Right, then. I'm off to bed." He hefted his war hammer and turned, retreating to his tent.

Surprised, Kivan watched him go. That was as much of a peace offering as he was ever likely to get, and he wondered again if Anomen _was_ learning forbearance, a tolerance he would need as he grew into his knighthood.

Left alone with his thoughts, Kivan settled down for his watch. At times he was motionless, the streamers of mist curling damply around him. At other times he paced or fed the fire, getting his blood moving. But his keen alertness never changed. He stared into the silvered night, watching and listening. He focused on the thing behind the wards. It, too, was quiet, but that could change in an instant, in the next beat of his heart.

It didn't. The predator waited in the lower woodlands, _waited_. There was a patient, long-suffering feel about it now, but its malice was undimmed. It hungered for blood. It salivated and _thirsted_, but it waited.

The fog rose, floating silently and eerily between the trees. The bitter cold deepened.

The waxing moon travelled the starry heavens, trailing pale silver in its wake.

And slowly, slowly, the night gave way to morning. The grey light of predawn washed over the sky, stealing the stars away one by one.

Sitting with his back to a tree, his arms folded across his chest and his bow across his knees, Kivan contemplated the half-light, wrapped tightly in his cloak. He wondered when Rain would waken. Idly, he thought of her lying in their bed, warm and peaceful. He smiled.

As it happened, he didn't have long to wait. The canvas rustled as Rain rose early, pushing back the tent flap and gaining her feet. Her beautiful, sunset hair spilled down her back, bright against her black leathers. Cloakless, she shivered in the cold and hugged her arms tightly to herself, turning her head as she scanned the camp, seeking him.

On impulse, he snapped his eyes closed. He fought to keep a sudden grin from his lips, clamping his mouth tightly as she came to him. She knelt, the sound of her soft, lilting laughter making his heart leap in delight.

"Well, well," she murmured. "What have we here? It seems my poor ranger has fallen asleep on the job."

His mouth twitched. He tried to suppress the quirk of his grin, quick and infectious, but it escaped him anyway. Rain let out a low laugh, very amused. Continuing their game, she sidled closer to him, bringing her face lightly against his.

"Now," she breathed, her mouth the barest hint on his, soft as a butterfly, "I wonder how I should wake him?"

Kivan tensed, his muscles taut with anticipation. As she began their kiss, still feathering and light, he _uncoiled_, seizing her shoulders and pulling her down with him. He sprawled flat on his back and dragged her atop him, laughing breathlessly as his bow and scabbards tangled between them, her hair falling in a fiery, shimmering veil around his face. "Like that," he choked out, his voice thick with mirth.

Rain smiled down at him, her eyes bright and absorbed as she studied his face. "Hmm," she said playfully. "I'll keep that in mind for next time, perhaps."

He grinned at her and slipped his fingers into her hair, gently urging her down to him. "Kiss me, amael," he whispered.

She did so, passionately. Using her vantage, Rain tangled her fingers in his thick, sable curls and kissed him deeply, taking fierce charge of him. He smiled against her lips, leisurely and satisfied.

His _Rosa_, he had come to realise over time, never did anything by half measures. Once she set her mind to something, she was determined and fearless. And he was drinking in the rewards even now, his mouth becoming more insistent on hers.

A stirring came from Jaheira and Imoen's tent. Their low voices filtered through the misty dawn, putting an end to Kivan's growing musings of taking Rain's hand and leading her away somewhere, out into the fog. He sighed and smiled up at her fondly. "I fear our privacy is over," he murmured in disappointment.

Disentangling himself from her, he stood smoothly, absently shaking off the damp leaves and dirt clinging to his cloak. Then, just because he could, he gripped her lean waist and hoisted her high into the air, bracing her firmly against him. Rain dipped her head and cradled his face in her hands, her eyes very soft, full of love.

Looking up at her, Kivan wondered what he must have done in all his years of revenge and fury and darkness that had been so _right_, that he had been gifted with her.

"Alkarinque," he whispered, amazed. "Did a star fall out of the sky and into my arms?" He stared up into her radiant face, overjoyed. "Whatever you are, anoron'amin," _my dawn_, "I want you to stay. _Stay_."

She smiled at him enchantingly. "I will," she whispered, and kissed him very beautifully from above.

xxxx xxxx

The scout's trail, as Kivan had thought, led them down the steep ridge and into the dales, where an ancient grove grew thick and close. Branches swept over the path, the trees rising up and up, reaching for the morning sun in all their majestic grandeur. Everywhere Kivan looked, green shadows drifted and dappled, hazing the forest in soft emerald. Spears of golden light broke through the leaves. There was a reverent feel to this place, mystical, as though a hushed, sacred mantle lay over the land. The forest's thoughts were old and _deep_. The further the party penetrated the grove, the more the _stillness_ pressed upon Kivan, the green shadows settling lightly on him.

The _hush_ moved him. It was expectant and deep, heavy. The trees were old beyond measure. With each step, Kivan had the sense that this place, this grove, was somehow set apart from the rest of the woodlands, strangely removed. He could feel the forest's fury out along the wards. The trees lashed, trying to drive away the foul presence. But here, the grove was an island to itself, surrounded by an ocean of rippling, restless trees.

"Oh, this place," Rain breathed, her eyes soft with wonder. "It is so beautiful." She glanced up at him as they walked together, his arm draped loosely around her waist. "It reminds me of you," she said very softly, looking deep into his eyes. "Of the beautiful colours you were in my father's realm."

Her words touched something deep within him. Hugging her closer, he absently pressed his lips to her brow, his gaze turning faraway and soft as he breathed in the warm scent of her skin. "There are places like this in Shilmista," he whispered, hearing the poignant catch in his voice. "Groves of ancient guardian trees, all slumbering beneath the sun. The dappled shadows, just like this. So lovely."

Rain sobered, her blue eyes turning grave. "Would you like to go back?" she asked him quietly. "To Shilmista?"

Kivan hesitated. The suggestion brought him a sharp ache of longing, but it was tainted too, laced with old sorrows and regrets.

"Someday," he allowed softly. "But not yet." He leaned his head against hers, holding her closely. Rain drifted into him. Her hair turned to bright, glinting fire as they passed through another bar of topaz light, and he wondered how he had _ever_ thought that she should cover it. "Home is wherever you are, Rain," he whispered huskily, and his heart seized with the truth of it.

The deeper the forest drew them in, the more Kivan's reverence grew. Rain was equally quiet, touched by the sacredness of this place. Jaheira surveyed the grove with a rapt, respectful wonder. But the further they walked, the more the humans among them began to eye the woods nervously, their discomfort increasing.

"It's strange," Imoen said, uneasy. There was a pinched, strained look about her freckled face. "There is an…eerie feeling here. I don't think the trees like me."

"I agree." Anomen's gaze darted up and down the path. Slowly, the knight turned in a wary circle, as though something deeply unsettling breathed down his neck. "The forest is…cold to me," he said, trying to put his apprehension into words. "Almost hostile. I am an intruder here, and the trees want me gone."

This insight, from a man who under normal circumstances had _no_ sensitivity to nature, made Jaheira regard him speculatively.

"The trees are sentient," she agreed. "It is a sign of the immense power of this place that you can feel it, Anomen." She glanced at Imoen, who was staring up nervously at a massive trunk. "There are wards here," she observed. "Not precisely the same as the ones that encompass greater Suldanessellar, but they have a similar purpose." She cocked her head to one side, considering the dim path. "If the glade houses the spirits of elven ancestors, then the grove may be wary of permitting entrance to those without elven blood. We'd best keep that in mind as we push on."

"Great," Imoen muttered. "So the trees _really_ don't like me. It's not just my imagination."

Rain regarded her sister very seriously. "Just remember that Queen Ellesime sent us here," she told her, quietly. "Hold that thought prominent in your mind as we pass through the wards."

Very soon, Imoen had good cause to try it. There was a faint shimmering in the air that was nearly swallowed by the green shadows. But Kivan's eyes were elven and shrewd, and he recognised it immediately. Slowly, he stretched out his hand and brushed his fingers through the barrier, the magic prickling over his skin in tiny electrical currents as the ward _learned_ him, picking him apart and weighing him critically. It gave way, finding him worthy. "Ward," he said softly.

Rain nodded. Like him, she tentatively tried the shimmering barrier, her skin taking on a faint silver glow as her hand passed through it. "Let's try it, then," she said decisively.

As Jaheira had warned, the wards opened freely for Kivan and Rain, the two of them sharing an elven heritage. But Rain, he noticed, gave a little wince, as though it pained her. He had a quick, worrying thought that her tainted blood might deny her entrance, but she stepped through with no further difficulty, her expression set. He frowned. Jaheira flinched openly as she waded through, the barrier seeming to thicken around her. But it lessened, accepting her.

Not so for Anomen and Imoen.

On the far side of the silvery veil, Kivan watched with sharp concern as they tried to enter, pushing against a suddenly solid barrier. Imoen squeezed her eyes shut in concentration. Then, bracing her hands, she _shoved_ against it. The veil rippled and dissolved, letting her stumble through. It reformed behind her.

Now fearful, Anomen grunted in effort, straining against the wall.

Worried, Rain slipped from Kivan's side and went to the knight. "Anomen," she said urgently, firmly, in that voice she used when she was issuing swift commands. "Remember Ellesime. Think of her." Gritting her teeth, she reached through the barrier and gripped Anomen's hand, her fingers closing white-knuckled around his gauntlets. "Think of the queen," she hissed, "and I will guide you through."

She did.

This time, the ward parted. Agitated, silver light rippled around the man as Rain pulled him through, her face going very pale. Anomen dragged in deep, steadying breaths, trying to find his voice. "My thanks, my lady," he murmured, looking shaken.

Concerned, Kivan gently cradled Rain's wan cheeks in his hands. "Amael," he said softly, "are you alright?"

She swallowed grimly and forced a nod. "I will be," she said.

Drawing her to him, Kivan glanced up the path, where motes of gold drifted in the slanting bars of sunlight. "There are more of them," he warned, catching sight of the next tell-tale shimmer in the emerald shadows. "Let's hope we can get through all of them intact."

They did, but barely. Imoen seemed to find it easier than Anomen, though she was skilled in magic and knew how to focus her will. But Anomen struggled. Dogged, Rain helped him through each one, her grip sure and steadfast. But each time her eyes met Kivan's, he saw her flare of worry, the fear she tried to hide from their human companions.

In the end, the glade of the ancestors did not accept them all. They came to a final, roiling ward of ancient power, infused with the elven divine. Excited sparks tingled all over Kivan's face and skin as he passed through the barrier. Beyond, a haunting, drifting light beckoned; sunlight filtering down through the jade leaves. _The glade_. But no matter how hard Imoen and Anomen tried, no matter how firmly Kivan tried to haul them both through, seeing the painful toll it took upon Rain, the ward denied them entry.

"Silvanus!" Jaheira scowled ferociously, her entire body rigid and straining as she, too, leaned her shoulder into the ward. "I bear your blood and I am a _druid_," she said sharply, railing at the ward. "Let me through, damn you!" With a last heave, her willpower won out and she lurched through the barrier, the protective magic crackling around her. "Well," she said acidly, eyeing the ward with a dark glower. "Thank you for seeing _fit_ to admit me."

"It's no use." Imoen shook her head, bitterly disappointed. "It won't let me in." Crushed, she shook off her pack and threw it on the ground, glaring at it. Then she slumped down on it and rested her elbows on her knees, cupping her chin morosely in her hands. "I guess we'll have to wait here then," she said, resigned.

Anomen set down his pack with more dignity than Imoen had shown. He regarded the trio behind the ward gravely, fingering the long haft of his hammer. "Go on without us," he urged them, a little wearily. "But by Helm, I trust you won't be _long_."

xxxx xxxx

The glade of the ancestors, though not large, was _beautiful_. If there had been an air of reverence in the surrounding grove, it was nothing to the aura of ancient power that seemed to seep out of the very ground, from the mighty, towering trees. The three of them crossed the glade very slowly, struck silent by its sheer glory, by its immense majesty. Remnants of granite statues rose from the emerald blades of grass. Old and crumbling, they ringed the glade, each facing inward. Countless rains and winds and storms had worn away their features, only the faint rounded lines giving the suggestion of elven profiles, both male and female.

Here, the quality of the light seemed different. Amber swelled in the clearing, a rich tapestry of tawny colour shot through with glittering streaks of sunfire. Gold particles floated above a perfectly round pool in the very centre of the glade. It was ringed by flat mossy stones, set in a pattern that spoke of a fine elven hand, each stone carefully laid in its place.

Drawn to the pool, Rain set down her pack and knelt by the stones, leaning over the still water. Kivan unshouldered his longbow and dropped his pack beside hers, joining her. Their faces were reflected in the very pure, almost-translucent water, those golden motes settling very softly on the still surface.

"Like faery dust," Rain whispered, her eyes wide with wonder. She met Kivan's gaze in the reflecting pool, as enchanted as he was. "I don't have the words," she said softly. "Nothing I could ever say would describe the beauty of this place. It is…splendid. _Glorious_."

Kivan nodded, captivated. Barely aware of what he was doing, he dipped his fingers in the pool, the crystalline water gliding over his skin. It was cool and fresh, sweet-scented. Bracing.

"This glade is not for the eyes of man," he said quietly, though he had a sudden stab of pity for Imoen and Anomen. "It is a rare privilege that even _we_ have been allowed to see this, and we are of the blood." He raised his head and met Rain's eyes in truth, his heart swelling with pride and wonder. "_Rosa_," he whispered, lifting one hand to her face. "You are favoured indeed, for the queen to even consider telling us to come here."

She gazed back at him, the amber light in her eyes, luminous. "So it seems," she said very softly.

Jaheira crouched on the other side of the pool, her honeyed braids glinting with copper. "Few have trodden this glade," she said reverently. There was an avid intensity about her face. "There are vast presences here, in the very air. Old and powerful, with great knowledge."

"Yes," Kivan agreed softly. He could sense them forming as swirling mists, though they were yet unseen. "The baelnorn," he added. "Ancestral wraiths that will rise to defend their people in times of dire need."

"Forest spirits," Jaheira murmured. "We already have their attention," she noted, glancing around at the crumbling statues, "but we must find a way to invoke them, to appeal to them to speak with us."

Rain rose, thoughtful. She took a few steps away from the pool and turned in a slow, graceful circle, her gaze sweeping over the clearing. "Revered ancestors," she said in a clear voice, addressing them directly. "Queen Ellesime, sovereign ruler of Suldanessellar, bade us to come here and seek your advice on Alaundo's prophecy, on my destiny. Please, I implore you to speak with us."

Nothing happened.

Silence reigned, crystal and still. The golden motes danced in the air.

But suddenly, Kivan had the keen sense that the wraiths were _listening_, waiting for something. A hushed expectation began to grow in the air. "They hear you," he told her, gaining his feet. "Try again."

She did. But though the ancient ghosts seemed to form more densely, flickering as white shadows at the very fringe of Kivan's sight, they did not respond.

"Try something else," Jaheira suggested. "Perhaps there is some ritual you must perform. Some first step we are missing."

Rain frowned uncertainly. She glanced at the pool of clear water, her slender brows drawing together. "Perhaps," she said slowly, turning something over in her mind. She glanced at Kivan, wondering. "Any ideas?" she asked him.

He shook his head. "Trust your instincts," he advised. "That is the only guidance I can give you."

"Instincts," she echoed, very soft. She was quiet a moment, still and thoughtful. But then a strange expression flitted across her face. Giving him a very rueful, almost self-conscious look, she reached for her cloak-pin and began to shrug out of her thick grey cloak, letting it fall to the ground. Then she unbuckled her sword-belt and sat on the grass, unlacing her black boots.

Kivan stared at her in bemusement. Rain tilted her head back and smiled at him wryly, something indefinable glittering in her eyes.

"Instinct," she told him, reaching for her braid. She untied the leather thong that bound it and ran her fingers through her hair, loosening the plait into soft, unruly waves. "I have the sense that if I am to seek their aid, then I must first purify myself." She nodded at the pool.

"Oh." He flushed under Jaheira's sudden intense scrutiny, flinching at her bark of amused laughter. Discomforted, he slanted his face away from the druid as she circled around the pool to stand with him.

"It is just as well that you have seen it all before," she said ironically, waving her hand at Rain, who was peeling off her tight leathers. She tugged the vest up over her head. "Otherwise, I would expect you to be a gentleman and turn your back."

He snorted. "It is just as well that _Anomen_ is not here," he said testily, "or I would be blindfolding him and marching him out of the glade."

For all the fierceness of his retort, Kivan was utterly quiet, moved to an admiring, entranced silence as Rain stood lightly and stepped across the grass, clad only in the shining raiment of her russet hair. The tawny light kissed her naked skin, setting her aglow. Enthralled, Kivan stared as she carefully lowered herself to the rim of the pool, slim and delicate, graceful and fine. The surface rippled around her slender, extended foot. She slipped into the water. The pool rose immediately to her waist, quivering all around her.

Slowly, she turned. Kivan's breath caught. With her beautiful sharp features and sea-dark eyes, her pointed ears and rose mouth, Rain was a fey sylph, a dryad rising from enchanted waters. Her fiery tresses spilled down over her small, high breasts. Flecks of gold drifted down around her.

Rain lifted her head and met his eyes steadily. "I go before them as I am," she said quietly, self-assured.

Kivan jerked his head in raw agreement, charmed. He remembered the last time she had spoken those words, after her dark transformation. _So much courage you have, my lovely Rain_. "Nandin," he whispered, hoarse. "Do as you will."

She dipped her head to him in acknowledgment, fluid and lithe. Then she bowed her head and closed her eyes, silent.

For a time, she was completely still, centred in herself.

Calm and focused_._

Watching her, Kivan sensed the tide of power growing in her, the slowly gathering force. She seemed to reach very deeply inside herself, just as she had before in Bhaal's realm. Then, lifting her head, her eyes still closed, Rain slowly sank her fingers into the water and concentrated, her face upturned to the golden, amber sky.

_Instinct_.

Something happened then that Kivan, in all his imaginings, had not anticipated. Rain was far removed from the terrible, primal power of her sire's plane, back in her own, mortal body. But it happened nonetheless.

White light began to shimmer around her fingertips, spreading out in an iridescent, silver pool through the water. White fire burned beneath her skin, spilling from her innermost being. Glowing like a star, radiant as the moon, Rain immersed herself in the molten white pool, ducking her head beneath the surface. Dark locks of her flame-hued hair floated lazily, coiling and sinuous. Fully submerged, Rain paused. The glow _brightened_.

Gasping, his heart thumping in mingled awe and terror, Kivan grabbed blindly at Jaheira's arm, the blood pounding in his ears. "The starfire," he rasped, hoarse with fear and a sudden, inexplicable panic. "It's still in her." He clenched his fingers in Jaheira's flesh, digging deep. She gave a short, painful cry. "What is she?" he whispered, dread clawing at his throat. "_What is she?_"

"I… I do not know." Jaheira's voice wavered. "I don't think that Rain even knows herself."

That was _no_ comfort at all. The light continued to leak through the pool, silver and incandescent. Those golden motes floated down from above, hissing as they melted into Rain's liquid starfire. "Sehanine… Sehanine guide me," he choked out. "I don't know what to think. I don't know what she is."

_More_.

The word whispered in his head. Kivan grasped at it, his thoughts wild and jumbled, chaotic.

_Yes_. Yes, his Rain was _more_. She had already tried to tell him that herself. She was less than she had been before, before Irenicus had stolen her divine soul, but she was also more. Changed. _Transformed_. What was it that she had said to him in their bower?

_It is as though I am a new blade, swift and whole, but one that was once broken_.

Remade.

_Reforged_.

And slowly, slowly, his stunned mind began to clear, clarity returning in a rush. Kivan _understood_. In that pool, sunk beneath the gleaming quicksilver surface, his beloved was undergoing some kind of rebirth, coming into her own elemental power. And only he, he and Jaheira, were graced with the witnessing of it, the only living beings under the glade's honeyed sky.

"Oh, Silvanus," Jaheira whispered in awe, perhaps coming to the same realisation as him. "Somehow, this is her awakening. I never thought to see anything like this."

In the pool, ripples spread across the molten surface as Rain rose once more. Water streamed down from her slender shoulders, glistening on her skin. Her wet hair clung to her breasts. She opened her eyes and looked straight at Kivan. Golden irises glowed in her sharp face, luminous and reflective as a cat's, bright as twin suns.

He inhaled sharply. Unable to look away, he slowly sank to the ground, all the strength leaving his limbs. Those strange, golden eyes followed his every move, dimming in sudden uncertainty.

"Kivan?" she whispered. Unsure, she gazed at him from the pool, her fey eyes level with his. "Please, beloved," she said, almost pleading, "do not be afraid."

Kivan stared into her gold, gold eyes. Rain looked back. It was not Sarevok that looked out of those powerful orbs, nor the Slayer. It was _Rain_, resplendent in golden light. She was bright and sharp and soft and beautiful, the gold flecks settling on her hair and slick skin.

Somehow, he found his voice. "I am not," he breathed, the truth of it singing in his blood. He stared at her in absolute wonder. "Oh, amael, my beautiful girl, I am _not_."

She sighed in relief, the tension ebbing from her bare shoulders. She gathered herself and lifted her chin. "Ancestors," she said firmly, very simply. "I have come. I am of the Spirit and I bid you to _speak_."

Her voice rang in the sacred glade.

Kivan shivered involuntarily, hearing the power in it. The _command_.

At once, the glade's ghosts hissed into existence. They materialised in the amber air, throngs of them, standing before the ancient stone statues, on the grass. There were so _many_. Men and women, each as wise and beautiful as the next, wearing flowing robes and fine elven chain. Some bore spears, some swords or bows. All pinned their eyes on Rain.

"Name yourself." A soldier stepped forward, his voice cool and implacable. He stepped to the rim of the pool and stared down at Rain fixedly, radiating command. His handsome face, sharp and chiselled with symmetrical elven beauty, was very stern. White-gold hair spilled down over his shoulders. "Name yourself, daughter of the Spirit, that we might know who you are."

Rain met the wraith's eyes steadily. The pool blazed silver around her. "I am Rain of Candlekeep. Daughter of both elf and Bhaal."

Instantly, the muted hissing that had been whispering through the glade, like the sigh of a barely-audible wind, roared into life. A cacophony of different voices rose at once, male and female. The tumult shrieked in Kivan's sensitive ears, reverberating in the clearing like a thunderclap.

_Gorion's ward. Gorion's ward. Gorion's ward._

_She of the prophecy has come_.

"Gorion's ward." The tall, stern soldier named her. "So you have come seeking our wisdom, our knowledge of the difficult path that lies before you."

"Yes." Rain's voice was a tiny whisper, nearly drowned out by the hissing roar in Kivan's head. Nearby, Jaheira was shaking her head violently, trying to clear it.

"Gorion's ward, listen, and heed us well." The wraith's voice took on a new timbre, turning deep and resonant, rolling and sonorous. It bounced off the statues, echoing back to them. "The wheels of prophecy e'er turn," it spoke. "Gorion's ward hath come. Crossroad of past, present and future, the one foreseen, the one foretold."

The booming notes reverberated in the gold-drenched air. Frozen in place, Kivan stared at the ghost, an icy shiver running the length of his spine.

There was movement in the corner of his vision. Startled, he whipped his head around, coming face to face with a woman. She was as exquisite as the rest of her kin, with long dark hair that cascaded down over her white robes, inky black. There was a sense of tranquil wisdom about her, putting him in mind of an ancient priestess. She looked into his eyes.

_Kivan_, she said directly into his mind, her voice warm and lilting and somehow fond. Her expression was intent but welcoming. _Yes, I recognise you. Kivan, born of the mists and shadows of Shilmista_. She knelt before him very elegantly, her silk robes wisping above the grass. Lightly, she touched a hand to his brow, her fingers cold and insubstantial. He shuddered, unable to stifle it.

_Hunter_, the ghostly priestess said, naming him. _Servant of Sheverash_. She smiled faintly, a poignant ache in her lovely eyes. _Beloved of Sehanine Moonbow, favoured of Hanali_. _When the time comes, you must hold to your purpose, hunter._

Over the top of her silver voice, the male wraith continued his intonation.

"The Children of Bhaal bring death to the land," he said, his voice stained with anger and vehemence. "They slaughter each other, and feed their Father. Death and betrayal walk together. A river of tainted blood doth not cleanse."

Beneath that belling roar, Kivan concentrated again, groping for her elusive thoughts. "What do you mean?" he whispered, needing an answer.

The woman's smile faded. Now she was very grim, purposeful. _You hunt for her_, she said, indicating Rain with a delicate tilt of her chin. _You must hunt them down one by one, all of Bhaal's murderous Children who desire nothing more than to rain down death and destruction on all the lands_. Her expression hardened. _You must stop this bloodbath. You and your woman: Gorion's ward. _Remember_, hunter, and take up your arms. Protect this realm_.

Suddenly, she faltered. She glanced up quickly, alarmed, as a sudden awful silence descended on the glade. Breathing hard, Kivan strained to listen, sending his senses out beyond the glade again.

It was the low moan that made his skin crawl, slithering over his skin. It rose from every tree in the grove, every ghost in the glade. It ascended into an eerie wail. As one, the wraiths uttered an unearthly scream, terrifying as banshees. Kivan clapped his hands over his ears, the instinctive terror of it skittering through his being. In response, the trees ringing the glade swayed, whipped into a righteous fury.

And then he realised.

The outer wards in the Forest of Tethir had failed. The intruder's determined assault had finally borne fruit. Now, the beastly presence was racing through the forest towards them, tearing up the ground. It arrowed for them, triumphant. _Blood-thirsty_.

"_No_." The colour drained from his face. Swiftly, he glanced at Rain, exposed and vulnerable in her starlight pool. "No!" Lunging to his feet, Kivan ran for her, his fingers tearing at his cloak. "'_Ware_!" he shouted. "It comes! It _comes_!"

Spurred into action, Rain waded to the edge of the pool. She flung out her hand and let him pull her from the water, those glistening silver-and-gold droplets sliding from her skin. Without her, the starfire faded from the pool. It leached away, the water becoming translucent once more. But the fey golden light remained in Rain's eyes, in her poised, coiled power.

Kivan threw his cloak around her shoulders, wrapping her tightly in it. He held her very hard and very close, driven by instinct.

The male wraith stiffened, rage in his eyes. "Suldanessellar's protections have been breached," he hissed. "The storm approaches. We speak no more." He began to turn away, his body dissolving into mist.

"Wait!" Rain cried. She clutched Kivan's cloak to herself, fierce and desperate. "Our friends are still trapped outside the glade's wards. You must let them in! We must make our stand here together, where there is room for us to defend ourselves." Her voice sharpened, becoming a bladed knife. "If you don't let them in, then we may all die, and who will try to avert the course of the prophecy then?"

The ghost turned back, forbidding. Though he had all but vanished, his voice was hard and cold, bitter as winter. "Do you know what you ask, Gorion's ward?" he demanded. "Would you dare to defile the sanctity of this glade by spattering foul blood over the sleeping stones?"

Rain's breath hissed through her clenched teeth, frustrated. "We have no choice," she snapped. "One way or another," she argued, "there will be blood spilt here anyway. Would you prefer it to be ours or _theirs_?" She gestured ferociously at the unseen beast loping towards them, her expression brittle. "I _must _have my companions," she said furiously. "Give me back my _sister_."

There was a long, pregnant pause. Kivan's heart slammed in his chest, his arms locked fiercely around Rain.

Slowly, the wraith acceded. He bowed his head to her will. A silver light suddenly sparked on his brow; a glowing, diamond gem. Kivan suddenly realised what he had been unable to spare the time to understand before; that this ghost was a _prince_ among elves, a revered warrior. The star flared upon the prince's brow and then dimmed into nothing. So, too, did the wards ringing the glade. "So be it," he said slowly, and then turned his back.

The wards dropped, the power unfurling.

The ancestral ghosts drifted away. Still kneeling in the grass, the raven-haired priestess gave Kivan a final, significant look and departed after her brethren, strangely calm and serene.

Kivan turned Rain in his arms and met her golden eyes grimly. They were alone again, the three of them, ready to meet their fate.


	16. Chapter 16

Author's note: A huge big thank you to everyone who has been reading and reviewing this story, it has been much appreciated. I hope you have enjoyed reading it just as much as I have enjoyed writing about Kivan and Rain's exploits.

REFORGED

CHAPTER 16 – HUNTERS: PART III 

With the passing of the ancestral wraiths and the banishment of the glade's protective wards, Kivan clenched his fingers in Rain's upper arms through the thick wool of his cloak, his eyes intent on hers. He spared Jaheira only a tense, flitting glance as the druid cursed loudly and began sprinting for the far side of the clearing, shouting at the top of her lungs for the others to come. Then, wrapping one arm tightly around Rain's shoulders, he pulled her close and kissed her urgently, his mouth coming down hard and intense on hers.

"_Rain_." He broke off their kiss and pressed his brow to hers, slipping his fingers into her wet hair in an almost jerky, anxious caress. She lifted her free hand to his nape and pressed herself closer to him, her breath soft and warm on his skin. "I love you," he whispered fiercely, his voice grating and almost harsh. He feathered his lips over her nose and damp cheeks. "Always, amael. Always, my star."

There was no time for more. Jaheira raced back into the clearing, Anomen and Imoen on her heels. They flung down their packs at the edge of the glade and drew their weapons, lunging forward on quick, frantic feet. Belatedly, Anomen caught sight of Kivan and Rain by the pool, only Kivan's arms and his patched cloak shielding her nakedness from view. The knight scudded to a halt and blanched. Wide-eyed, he took in Rain's dripping hair and her bare ankles; the way she clutched the green folds to herself so tightly. Anomen coloured. Blushing furiously, he dropped his gaze to Rain's discarded clothes and took an uncertain step backwards, looking like a cornered animal hastily seeking retreat.

Kivan hissed out an impatient breath: they didn't have time for this. "Oh, for Hanali's sake, man," he snapped, exasperated. "Turn your back!"

Awkwardly, the knight did so. He moved away a few steps and stared hard at his war hammer as though it was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen, his back stiff and proud. Muttering under her breath, Jaheira swung her staff up and took up a position at his back, a fierce expression on her face as she warded him off.

Rain didn't waste any time in reaching for her clothes. Bending over, she slipped her feet into her underclothes while Kivan briskly dried her back with his cloak, chafing her arms and legs. She stepped into her black leather breeches. With some difficulty, given her damp skin, she pulled them up and turned her attention to her thin charcoal tunic and the leather vest, dragging them down over her head.

Kivan shielded her with his cloak and then tossed it aside, throwing it over his pack which still lay by hers in the grass. Urgency hummed in his blood. The more time that passed, the more vividly he sensed the intruders plunging through the great forest towards them, heading unerringly for the ancestral glade.

"They're coming," he told Rain, very grimly. "You need to hurry."

And yes, there was indeed more than one of them. A pack. The sentient trees fed their impressions to him. Their eerie hissing was rising again in the forest surrounding the glade, agitated whispers flying from one tree to the next, passing on their warnings. The dark presence moving towards them resolved into individual creatures; a band of men, if he was interpreting the forest's mood correctly, hungering for blood. Human men, and a woman. _Elven_. That sense came to him crisp and sharp: he felt the recoiling horror of the baelnorn still lingering in the amber air of the glade unseen; their irascible fury that one of the blood, one of the _Spirit_, could betray elvenkind so thoroughly, so shamelessly.

For what she brought with her was an evil so old and deep that a stain was spreading through the lowlands before it, a pervasive sense of gloom and overwhelming despair infecting the woods and all its inhabitant creatures.

_This_ was what Kivan had been sensing so keenly all this time. _This_ nightmare terror, a fell beast that kept blood-thirsty company with the band that hunted Rain. The evil creature bounded ahead of the rest of its pack; let loose, unleashed. It was too swift, too fast… It would be here in only minutes.

"Hurry, love," he said roughly, panicked for Rain. He crouched down beside her and laid an urgent hand on her shoulder, seeing her jerky nod as she laced up her boots.

"I am." She finished quickly, tying off the laces. Leaping to her feet, she swept up her sword-belt and secured her crimson scabbards in place, tightening the leather strap through the buckle with a swift jerk of her hand. Her grey cloak landed atop his, in a rumpled heap.

Kivan snatched up his longbow and flanked her, nocking an arrow to the string. Tense and rigid, he stared through the hissing trees in the direction of the beast hunting them, feeling how close it was now, how the small forest creatures fled terror-stricken before it. He became aware of Imoen nocking her own arrow to the glistening string of her shortbow, the mage watching the woods intently on Rain's other side.

"I can feel it now," the young woman whispered. She sounded dazed and detached, as though something within her was finally stirring, something she hadn't been aware of until now. Kivan shot her a worried, sideways glance. "I feel it in my blood, Rain. A…hunger. A pulling."

Rain looked at her sister very grimly. She took her dark, fiery locks in her hands and squeezed impatiently, wringing out the water from her hair. "Yes," she agreed, flicking the damp tresses back over her shoulder. "You feel our brother or sister. The one coming for us."

"Sister." The word was out of Kivan's mouth before he was even aware of it. He was momentarily startled, wondering where that certainty had come from, but Rain turned her grim, deadly eyes on him, nodding her agreement.

"Yes," she said again. "Our sister." She drew her swords with a harsh, metallic rasp. Her golden eyes glowed hot and fierce. "I can sense her now, both in my father's blood and through the Spirit." Her face hardened, her beauty turning sharp and lethal. "Traitor," she hissed, echoing Kivan's sentiments exactly.

"Rain." Anomen choked on her name. As one, Kivan and Rain scythed their gazes towards him, seeing the open shock on his face. "Your eyes," he whispered, both horrified and amazed. "They're… They're –"

"Glowing, we know." Kivan cut across him tersely. He suddenly recalled that of their group, only Anomen had never seen Sarevok's blazing golden eyes, the savage luminous light that now lit candles in Rain's starfire gaze. "_Later_, man," he snarled, ferocious. For the beast was nearly upon them. Whipping his head back around towards Rain, he stepped in front of her protectively, ready to defend her with his life. "Stay behind me," he ordered her urgently, and trained his barbed arrow between the tossing trees.

The murk in the forest deepened.

A vile, oppressive shadow began to form at the very fringes of the glade, gathering itself into a black, utter darkness.

The trees flinched and shied away, shrinking down deep into themselves. The last of the spinning leaves hit the ground. And that shadow, that awful, terrible darkness, it began to seep into the golden sanctity of the glade, swallowing whole the once beautiful, radiant light.

Something dreadful moved in those shadows.

Utterly silent, it stalked into the clearing towards them, sunk in its dank, malevolent darkness. Red eyes glowed in the smoky fog. A long snout and slavering jaws appeared, mouth stretched wide to reveal pointed canine fangs, a salivating red tongue. A deep rumbling issued from inside the massive chest - wolfish laughter – and the beast shrugged off its stealthy shadows to reveal four powerful legs and mighty paws; an arching, bristling neck, and a muscular back ending in potent, sinewy hindquarters. A long plumed tail. Its pelt was thick and black, the ruff around its neck lightening to an almost silvery-grey. It padded closer, fixing its glowing eyes on Rain, scenting the air through large glistening black nostrils.

"Bhaalspawn," it growled at her in Common, its voice low, guttural, and highly amused. "We meet at last."

Horrified, Kivan stared at the worg, white-faced. His skin broke out in an icy sweat. Even among its own kind, the massive dread-wolf would be a monster, taller than Kivan, equalling Anomen in height. It loomed over them, rank with evil, seeding terror and despair in even Kivan's stout heart.

"_Get back_." Somehow, Kivan found the ragged ends of his voice. What was supposed to be a dire, furious threat came out pitifully weak, making the creature turn its slitted red pupils on him. Its ears twitched; more laughter rumbled from its chest.

"Ranger," it said, drawing in his scent through its nose and considering him balefully. "You think to guard this one?" The worg grinned maliciously at Rain behind him, baring its vicious teeth. "She smells nice. Smells like Bhaalspawn." It growled suddenly, turning agitated. It began to pace restlessly back and forth in front of him, its tail rigid, its muzzle creasing in a furious snarl. "She smells like you," it accused him. "She is your mate?"

"Yes," Kivan snarled back, his eyes blazing. Rage ripped through him now, animalistic and primal, driving away the unnatural, chill terror the worg had instilled in the very marrow of his bones. "And you _can't_ have her." He tensed his fingers on his bowstring and aimed for the worg's throat just above the ruff, the deadly point of his arrowhead moving as he tracked the beast's furious pacing.

The thing snapped its jaws at him in warning. The red eyes burned with feral hatred. But instead of lunging for him, as he expected, the worg swivelled its fearsome head towards Rain, who had crept up, silent, to Kivan's side. He sucked in a sharp breath, terrified for her.

"Evil beast," she spat, furious. "You share a foul bond with my sibling! I feel the echo of her taint in you, where it should not be. Why would you do such a thing? Why would you do a mortal's bidding?"

As Kivan fought to make sense of her accusation, somehow knowing that in this, her senses ran deeper than his, the worg opened its massive jaws and laughed at her. It lolled its tongue to one side, saliva dripping from the wicked points of its fangs.

"Why?" it asked, lifting one huge paw to show her its savage claws. "To hunt you, of course, little Bhaalspawn. You and the others." Its mouth opened wider, showing rows of wicked teeth. "This was Illasera's promise to me, that I could feed on you all, sink my fangs into your neck and drink the ichor of a dead god!"

The triumph in its guttural voice sent a shiver of dread down Kivan's spine. He edged closer to Rain, his great bow stretched back, his arm tense and aching.

The worg suddenly snarled, its eyes firing with bloodlust. "So much godsblood you have," it told Rain, eyeing her with an intense, insatiable hunger as though it was drunk on her already. "More than the others. I will enjoy feasting on you." Its muzzle wrinkled. "Even if you have cat's eyes," it growled, disgusted. "And when I am done with you," it said, turning its savage eyes on Imoen, who was being shielded by Anomen, "I will eat her too!"

Just like that, it leaped for Imoen, so fast that it was a black blur of wolfish movement, death bred into its flesh and bone. She screamed and stumbled backwards. Anomen lunged forward to take the worst of the violent impact, but Kivan's arrow whirred away first, lodging in the worg's throat. The beast faltered a little, its rapid momentum slowed.

But it would take more than one arrow to finish this monster.

The worg crashed into Anomen with its shoulder, sending him flying. Screaming with fury, Rain launched herself at it, putting herself between the beast and Imoen. Horrified, Kivan sent another arrow whistling towards it, the arrowhead impaling the worg's eye just as its mighty jaws were snapping for Rain, trying to rip out her throat. She danced sideways and evaded both its vicious teeth and shredding claws, slashing at the hairy chest with her blades as the creature howled with pain and rage, the arrow shafts sprouting from its mangled eye and throat. Cursing, his heart hammering, Kivan threw aside his bow and drew his vorpal sword in one movement, throwing himself towards Rain.

An arrow flew at the worg's neck, striking it with a wet thump. _Imoen_.

Anomen charged the beast from the other side, roaring with battle rage. His hammer collided with its shoulder. Beyond him, Jaheira was finishing a chant, her eyes fierce with concentration.

Lightning forked down from the suddenly dim sky. It struck the worg squarely on its back. The beast let out a shrill, bloodcurdling howl, and in the same instant, the scorch of sizzling flesh and fur filled Kivan's nose, making him want to gag.

After that, it was heavy, gory work, with no finesse whatsoever. They brought the worg to its knees. Breathing hard, Kivan hacked at it again and again, opening up great rents in its black pelt, sweeping his sword in savage arcs. Blood and burnt fur reeked in the air, mingling with the acrid after-tang of lightning. At his side, Rain fought with grim determination, blood spattered over her intent face. Jaheira cracked her staff across the worg's hindquarters. Magic crackled in the air, bolts hissing into the beast's side, and finally, it weakened enough for Anomen to topple it with a mighty swing of his hammer.

The worg sank onto its side, its lacerated chest heaving. The red eyes began to dim. Dark, foul blood oozed from its many wounds, and the jaws slowly drifted closed. The red tongue lolled from it, limp.

Grimly, Kivan planted his boot firmly on its thick neck and sliced down through the worg's bloodied ruff into resisting flesh and bone, cutting its throat. Blood spurted, splashing his boots and legs. The worg shuddered and lay still.

xxxx xxxx

With the beast dead, Kivan turned to Rain and surveyed her swiftly, looking for any sign of injury, any hurts. Aside from her bloodied leathers, she seemed unharmed. The starfire glow had faded from her eyes, leaving them blue again, but she still wore her awakened power in her grim, efficient manner, in the tense lines of her body. She looked down at the worg a little wearily.

"The stuff of nightmares," she remarked. She wiped her sleeve across her brow, smearing the blood. "All this time, the wards were keeping out _that_."

"And your sibling foolish enough to consort with it," Kivan observed, his lip curling with disgust. "A foul bond, indeed," he added, thinking of what Rain had accused the worg of earlier.

She nodded and turned her eyes on him. "Are you alright?" she asked with concern, her brow furrowing faintly beneath the blood.

"I am, love." And he was. Rather than his blood cooling with the aftermath of battle, adrenaline still sang in his veins, the battle-song thudding with each beat of his heart. A strange, grim satisfaction came over him. Soon enough, they would be fighting again, for the pack that hunted them was nearly upon them. He could hear many feet dashing through the undergrowth. Moving swiftly, he planted a quick kiss on Rain's brow, heedless of the sticky blood, and crouched to wipe his fouled blade on the grass. None of the others bothered to clean their weapons. They would be using them again very soon.

Rising, Kivan slid the vorpal blade back into its sheath and took up his longbow again. Still centred with his strange, deadly calm, he stooped back down beside the matted, bloody corpse of the worg and considered it levelly. "Well, fairest," he said to Rain, almost lightly. "Shall we get ready to greet your sister, then?"

She let out a low, ironic laugh, her blue eyes gleaming. "Oh, yes, my hunter. We should."

Her name for him, the endearment in it, suddenly put him in mind of the ghostly priestess' charge to him: _you must hunt them down one by one, all of Bhaal's murderous Children who desire nothing more than to rain down death and destruction on all the lands. _The woman had been correct, indeed. _Remember, hunter, and take up your arms._

"I will." He affirmed it aloud; a spoken pledge, a promise. He would do everything in his power to protect his beloved. His purpose was firm, his will focused and honed. Still crouching by the worg, Kivan reached out a hand and dabbed his fingers in its thick, dark blood. Very precisely, he smeared it in a distinctive pattern on his brow: first, a single straight line; the arrow shaft. Then two diagonals, smeared from temple to hairline; the barbed arrowhead. Lastly, he marked his chin with the blood. Thus painted for war, Kivan stood smoothly and stepped in close to Rain, avoiding her naked blades. He nocked an arrow loosely to his bowstring and waited.

Rain eyed his markings approvingly, understanding the gesture. "Nice," she murmured, the hint of a grim smile on her lips.

He looked back at her, satisfied. "Let them come," he said staunchly, a feral light in his eyes.

Imoen sent them both a distracted look. "You two are strange," she muttered, but then fell silent, readying herself for the band of hardened mercenaries that poured into the glade.

They formed up on the other side of the sacred pool; rough, armoured men, their expressions set, their eyes darting from the fallen worg to the blood-spattered companions, the group they had assumed would be easy victims, easy prey. There were at least eight of them. Studying them, his eyes narrowed, Kivan could almost taste their sudden uncertainty, their confusion.

And the woman who led them, the traitorous elf who had fouled herself with so much evil that even the Forest of Tethir had sought to keep her out, she strode angrily into the glade, profaning its sanctity with every step. She stopped and glared at Rain. In her green elven chain, she cut a striking figure, with raven-black hair and a cruel red mouth. There was charcoal smudged in a mask around her green eyes. Right now, those brittle irises were surveying Rain, taking her measure.

"Rain of Candlekeep!" Sharp-tongued and bitter, her sibling called her out. The woman swept her hand towards the dark heap of the worg. "I almost didn't believe it when I felt him die," she hissed, "but I see it is true."

Rain stared at her half-sister intently, her chin proud and high. "Illasera, I presume," she said icily. "How lovely to make the acquaintance of another of my sisters." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other; perfectly balanced, lethal and precise. With her bloodied swords in her hands, and her scarlet-stained black leathers, Rain was a vision of carnage, a vengeful handmaiden of death. Kivan tensed beside her, his fingers tightening on his bow and nocked arrow. "Though it's not every day that one of my own _family_ sends a worg after me," she added with black, acid humour. "How flattering."

Illasera snarled at her. "Bitch," she hissed. "I have already wasted too much time hunting you. You and pathetic Imoen." She threw a scathing glance at the pink-haired girl. "To tell the truth, I am heartily sick of the pair of you. Why you couldn't just sit tight in Baldur's Gate and let me finish you off there, I have no idea. But no, you had to go and get yourself captured by Irenicus."

There was a quick, menacing flare in Illasera's green eyes; a small smirk played about her lips.

"Oh, yes," she said in answer to Rain's unspoken question, "I know all about you, Rain. You and these others, who have been stupid enough to ally themselves with you."

The woman cast her cruel gaze over them. She considered Kivan briefly, reading his declaration of war in the gore smeared across his face, but then moved on, dismissive.

"Though I see that one of your little band is missing," Illasera continued in a smug undertone. "Aerie, wasn't it? The wingless avariel. What a pity she isn't here to witness your downfall."

Rain ignored her taunt. Instead, she watched her sibling with a very still focus, her eyes hard and piercing.

"Long have I studied you," her nemesis informed her, eyeing her with cool disdain. "Long have I hunted you, my elusive quarry. But it is done now. Of the greatest of us, the Five of us, _I _was chosen to take your head." She offered Rain a small, menacing smile. "So come here and kneel before me, sister of mine. And with your death, so will I take one step closer to our father's Throne of Blood, to my destiny!"

Beside Kivan, Rain made a choked, spluttering noise that sounded suspiciously like laughter. "You fancy yourself a hunter, do you?" she said, her eyes gleaming again, bright and sharp. A dangerous heat was building in her now. With every sense, all his intuition, Kivan felt her starfire being stoked anew, her anger growing. "Do you not realise, _sister of mine_, that one of the finest hunters in the realms is right here, beside me?"

Suddenly, with quick grace, Rain stepped away from Kivan's side. Her light footfalls took her over the grass. She passed the dead worg and began a stalking semicircle, out to one side, putting her halfway between her dismayed companions and their band of hunters. She moved purposefully, with supreme confidence. A deadly, powerful beauty intent on her goal.

_On her prey_.

For the first time since entering the glade, Illasera was visibly alarmed. "Stop!" she snapped, taking an uncertain step backwards. "Throw down your swords!"

But Rain was in control now. Looking at her, seeing the first shimmer of luminous gold in the air around her, the first flare of hot, white-gold fire in her eyes, Kivan knew that Rain had held the upper hand from the very beginning. This confrontation would be on her terms.

Halting, she lifted high her arm and plunged the blood-streaked point of the Equalizer straight down into the rich earth of the sacred glade; a furious, symbolic gesture. The hilt quivered in the gold-flecked air.

"Enough!" she cried. With another flick of her wrist, she drove Celestial Fury into the ground beside the Equalizer. In a perfect temper, a perfect fury, Rain glared at Illasera and her mercenaries with stormy, lightning eyes, her golden aura blazing even brighter. Anomen let out a shocked gasp. On the far side of the pool, Illasera's pack stared at Rain in open-jawed horror, their fearful mutterings rising in the glade.

None of them had expected this.

"I have heard your threats," Rain continued, taking a slow, purposeful step towards Illasera, "and now _I_ am done with _you_. I will not kneel. I will not bend my neck to you. You have entered into an evil, monstrous pact with a worg, and hunted down our brothers and sisters." She spat on the grass in front of her, disgusted. "Even the ancient wards rejected you. You have turned your back on the Spirit, on all elvenkind, and there will be no mercy for you, Illasera. _None_."

Swiftly, before Illasera could react, Rain thrust out her hands and called her starfire. The light flared around her, painfully bright. Squinting, Kivan used her blinding distraction to send the first of his deadly arrows raining into the pack of dazed, shouting men, the _twang _of his bowstring in his ears. His arrow took the first of them in the cheekbone, between the steel guard of his helm. The mercenary screamed and clutched at his face, collapsing to the ground.

The spell of shock that had come over their party was broken. Flinging a battle cry, Jaheira charged the milling pack, the violence of her attack waking Anomen from his trance. He shook his head to clear it and blundered into the confused throng, swinging his hammer madly. Kivan fired another arrow at an archer who, alone among his brethren, had the presence of mind to aim a missile at Rain.

Kivan's arrow hissed through the air; the other arrow hurtled towards Rain.

But before the arrow impacted her, it burned up in the starfire halo surrounding her, becoming a fiery, shooting star. Rain snatched at the hilt of the knife in her belt; the same one she had drawn across Irenicus' throat. Drawing back her arm, she hurled the point of the small blade at Illasera with an uncanny, marksman's accuracy, golden light flashing along the steel. It took her sister in her white forehead, putting a premature end to the spell which Illasera had been chanting. The woman dropped to her knees, green eyes glazing in her charcoal-smudged face. She slumped onto the green grass, defiling the ancestral glade with her tainted blood.

After that, it was a rout. They killed each and every one of the intruders who had dared to come after them. It was harsh and brutal. Squatting on his heels by one of the fallen, satisfied there was no pulse, Kivan stole a glance at the crumbling stone statues in the glade, wondering what the baelnorn thought of this carnage, of the havoc they had wreaked.

But, in the end, it was destroy or be destroyed, just as Rain had warned the ancestral prince.

Rising, he went to her. "Rain?" Concerned, he put a hand on her shoulder where she knelt by Illasera's body, her head bowed. She had her fingers pressed to her temple as though pained. Blood spilled from the hole in Illasera's head, where Rain had pulled out her small knife. Carefully, Kivan drew back Rain's damp, curling hair and tucked it behind her pointed ear, seeing the distraction in her blue, distant gaze. "What is it, love?" he asked her gently.

Rain stirred a little. "Something is…calling me, Kivan," she said, lifting her head to meet his eyes. There was a strange, calm certainty in her. "I can feel it here, a pulling in my head…" Her voice trailed off. She listened intently. "I have to go back," she suddenly said, springing to her feet. "Back to where this first began."

Somewhat startled, but definitely intrigued, Kivan watched as she called the starfire to her fingers and traced the outline of a gateway, just as she had in Bhaal's realm. The planar door formed in the glade's sun-soaked air. Pitch black, studded with tiny stars, it beckoned, lancing Kivan with a dangerous thrill.

Anomen gaped at it. "What, in Helm's name, is _that_?"

"A planar rift, of course." Imoen shrugged. "Come on, Sir Knight," she said, accepting her sister's elemental power with blithe ease. "Fetch your pack and step through. Come on, it's easy. Look, I'll show you." Flashing a disarming, encouraging grin at him, Imoen dragged the stunned priest across the glade to their discarded belongings and loaded him up. "Come on!" she scolded him impatiently, exclaiming loudly. "It won't kill you, you know."

Jaheira sighed and shook her head. "And the road takes yet another twisting turn," she said, eyeing Rain ruefully. "Very well, Rain. Let's see where your strange destiny leads us to next."

Squaring her shoulders, her pack over her arm and her staff in her hands, the druid entered the gateway first, resolved. She passed into darkness.

Kivan retrieved both his cloak and Rain's, draping them over his arm, and slid their packs over his shoulders. He waited, patient, as Rain pulled her swords from the stained earth and cleaned them quickly, sliding them back into her crimson sheaths. She turned to him, gazing up into his blood-marked face. "Shall we?" she asked softly, slipping her arm through his.

He nodded decisively. Together, they stepped through the gate.

On the other side, that wild, tumultuous wind roared, the grey skies swirling and howling, just as he remembered them. The forge-like heat was the same; the icy rock beneath his feet. But this time, his body was real and substantial, and far better equipped to withstand the forces of this plane. At his side, Rain was fearless, confident as she re-entered her father's realm.

"God-child."

The proud, molten voice stopped them in their tracks. Utterly compelled, his thoughts suddenly mired in honeyed, golden amber, Kivan swivelled his head towards that unearthly speaker, basking in a warm, almost divine radiance.

A celestial creature awaited them. Crowned in a sunburst, her sinuous, golden locks floating above her light-kissed azure skin, the being smiled at them in gentle-fierce beneficence, great ivory wings spreading from her back. Through his dazzlement, Kivan was sharply reminded of Aerie. The celestial woman regarded Rain intently, who stared back in unabashed awe.

"I greet you, Rain," the being said. "You who are of divine blood." The woman dipped her head in a perfect, poised salutation, golden light blazing in her eyes. In that moment, Kivan recognised the raging starfire that Rain was only beginning to channel, a primal, potent power that came so-very-naturally to this otherworldly being. The woman must be some kind of angel, some kind of heavenly creature. "I am Solar," the celestial told her. "I have awaited you, god-child, for some time now." Her molten voice lowered, warming with sudden amusement. "You, who are so unready to assume your destiny."

Startled, Rain collected herself. Curtseying, she returned the Solar's greeting with beautiful, deferent grace, splendid despite the congealing blood on her leathers, the scarlet smeared on her brow. "And I greet you warmly in return," Rain said, a little unsteadily. "I did not expect this, Solar."

"But it is done, nevertheless," the celestial said gently.

Before Kivan could even begin to unravel her meaning, the Solar turned her piercing, golden gaze directly upon him. Looking into her eyes, transfixed, he suddenly felt an overwhelming pressure, as though the entire weight of the celestial heavens was bearing down on his shoulders, weakening him. He paled. But then he gritted his teeth and gathered his strength, and inched closer to Rain. His resolve was strong and fierce; as fierce as it had ever been.

_Good_, the Solar spoke into his mind. _You hear me now_. She did not smile, but he sensed her fierce approval regardless. _Welcome, Kivan of Shilmista. Are you ready? Ready to fight for her, to stand loyal and fearless by her side?_

Tensing, Kivan firmed himself at Rain's shoulder. Lifting his head, his black hair snarling in the plane's wild, snapping breeze, he moved in towards her intimately, somehow understanding that in his next words, in his next declaration, his soul would be bared in perhaps the most important vow of his life.

"Yes," he grated. "Yes, I am. I will guard my beloved, my dearest Rain,with every beat of my heart, every breath of my lungs."

There was a sudden, golden silence. In that void, Kivan eagerly sought Rain's eyes, turning his face to hers. She tipped her head back and smiled at him gladly.

And in that moment, Kivan realised what his bitter trials had been leading him to all this time, all these black, wasted and suffering years…

_Her_.

Rain.

His friend and lover; the light of his life. _His star_. She had no comparison. There was no-one to hold a candle to her, no-one to steal away her beauty and majesty.

There was just Rain, as perfect as she had always been.

Clearing his throat, Kivan put his arm around Rain's narrow waist and drew her very closely to him, embracing his destiny. "I am ready," he told the Solar, absolute.

And he was.

_The End._


End file.
